

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


fopyright No, 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 












































































































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COMEDIES FOR CHILDREN. 



<5 ^ 3- CM 1C AGO G -a 

THE-DRAMAT1C-PUBLISHING-COMPANY 




































CAPT. RACKET 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS. 


Charles Townsend. 


PRICE 25 Cents. 


This latest play by Mr. Townsend will probably be one of his 
most popular productions; it certainly is one of his best. It is 
full of action from start to finish. Comic situations follow one 
after another, and the act-endings are especially strong and 
and lively- Every character is good and affords abundant oppor¬ 
tunity for effective work. Can be played by four men and three 
women if desired. The same scene is used for all the acts, and it 
is an easy interior. A most excellent play for repertoire com¬ 
panies. No meeker for a good play can afford to ignore it. 

CHARACTERS. 

Capt. Robert Racket, one of the National Guard. A lawyer 

when he has nothing else to do, and a liar all the time. 

Comedy Lead. 

Obadiah Dawson, his uncle, from Japan “where they make 
tea”.. .. -... Comedy Old Man. 

Timothy Tolman, his friend, who married for money and is 
sorry for it . Juvenile Man. 

Mr. DALROY,his father in-law, a jolly old cove. Eccentric. 

Hobson, a waiter from the “Cafe Gloriana,” who adds to the 
confusion. Utility. 

Clarice, the Captain’s pretty wife, out for a lark, and up to 
“anything awful”.. Comedy Lead. 

Mrs. Tolman, a lady with a temper, who finds her Timothy 
a vexation of spirit. Old Woman 

Katy, a mischievous maid. Soubrette. 

Tootsy, the “Kid,” Tim’s olive branch. Props. 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT. 1. Place: Tim’s country home on the Hudson near New York. Time- 
A breezy morning in September. The Captain’s fancy takes a flight and 
tmuble begins. 

, ACT. II. Place; the same: Time; the next morning. How one yarn re¬ 
quires another. Ihe greatest liar unhung,” Now the trouble increases and 
the Captain prepares for war. 

ACT. III. Place: the same. Time: evening of the same day. More misery, 
A general muddle. Dance or you’ll die.” Cornered at last. The Captain 
owns up. All serene. * 

Time of playing: Two hours. 



Order a sample copy, and see for yourself what a 
good play it is. 













Comedies For Children 


BY 

EFFIE W. MERRIMAN 

Author of “ Diamonds and Hearts,” “A Pair of Artists,” 

“Socials,” Etc. 

7 * 


A Collection of One-act Plays Written for Presentation 
in the Home or School-room, by the Children 
of the Family and their Friends 


Copyright i8q8 by The Dramatic Publishing Company , Chicago 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED* 


THE 



COMPANY 











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INTKODUCTION. 


It is as natural for a child to act as it is for 
him to breathe. Watch him while at play, and 
in nine cases out of ten, you will find that he is 
pretending to be other than he is. There are 
few children who, at some time during their 
childhood days, do not desire to act “real 
plays,and tease for something that is not be¬ 
yond them, so far as stage accessories are con¬ 
cerned, for they never admit that they are not 
capable of acting anything that has ever been 
acted! 

The plays in this little book were written for 
real children, who, like most children, must do 
their acting without a stage, and in the family 
sitting=room. They are so simple that the 
children can act them without the help from 
their elders, which will be a source of satisfac¬ 
tion to busy mothers. 


f 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


The Drunkard’s Family ... 7 

For two boys and two girls. 

The Rigmaree.15 

For two boys and three girls. 

The Mysterious Guest ... 23 

For four girls. 

Three Newsboys.33 

For three boys. 

The Stolen Cat.41 

For four boys and two girls. 

What Ailed Maudie .... 49 

For three boys and two girls. 

In Klondyke. 57 

For eight boys. 

Marian’s Wish.63 

For two boys and three girls. 

The Sick Doll. 67 

For three girls. 

The Quarrel. 71 

For two girls. 

The School Entertainment . . 75 

For two boys and nine girls. 

A Mother Goose Comedy . . 87 

For two boys and two girls. 

























































THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Sadie Clark, —The drunkard’s wife. 
Mr. Clark, —The drunkard. 

&(-^eirehil dr en. 


The following temperance play is easily pro¬ 
duced, and may be made quite effective in a 
room where the children are allowed to have the 
materials for cooking, as suggested. If they 
wish to give it in a room where such things are 
not allowed, they will not find it difficult to 
think of something else they can do while 
speaking the lines. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Enter Mrs. Sadie Clark, with her sleeves 
rolled up. Her hair is tousled , and her 
gingham apron is a little damp , for she has 
been washing.'] 

Sadie. I believe I was never so tired in my 
life. It was such a hard washing! [ Throws 
7 





8 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 


herself into a wooden rocking chair , and passes 
her hand over her forehead, as if her head 
ached badly. J I wonder if all the rest of my 
life is to be like this—hard work, poor pay— 
half starved children—a drunken husband. 
[Bends forward, burying her face in her hands 
for a moment. ] And the drunken husband is 
responsible for all the rest. 

[Enter Mamie, her hat in her hand , and pant - 
ing as if she had been running.] 

Mamie. Oh, mother, I’m promoted! I’ve 
got to have a new reader, a geography, and an 
arithmetic 

[Enter George, panting. Throws his hat to the 
ceiling , and catches it as he comes in .] 

George. I’m promoted, mother! Gee! but 
I’ve got to have a stack of books! 

Mamie. [ Holding up one foot.'] And there 
are holes in my shoes, mother. The snow gets 
in awfully. 

George. [Holding up one foot.] Pooh! 
Your shoes are better than mine are. Mother, 
can’t I have new shoes. 

Mamie. If George has new shoes, I’m going 
to have some, too! 

[Both children rush at Sadie as they talk, and 
catch hold of her hands, saying, “ Can we 
have them? Can we have them?” She 
pushes them away and rises to her feet.] 

Sadie. Don’t tease, children! I’m tired to 
death. 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 9 

Mamie. [ Dancing in front of her.] But, 
mother, we’ve got to have the books! 

George. [ Dancing in front of her.] Or else 
stay out of school. 

Sadie. It is supper time, Mamie. Can’t you 
set the table for me? 

Mamie. Uhdiuh. We’ll talk about the 
books while we work. Come on, George. 
You’ve got to help. 

George. [Flinging himself into the rocking 
chair .] Mother didn’t say so. 

[Sadie goes to the table at one end of the 
room , and begins to pare potatoes that have 
been placed there in a basin. Mamie catches 
George by the hand and tries to pull him out 
of the rocking chair. ] 

Mamie. He must help me, mustn’t he, 
mother? 

George. I don’t have to, do I, mother? 

Sadie. [Talking to herself .] On the whole, 
I believe I’ll cook these potatoes without paring 
them. It is more economical. [Turns her 
head , and sees the children struggling togeth¬ 
er.] Children, if you don’t behave yourselves, 
I’ll whip you both in less than a minute! 

Mamie. [Running to table in centre of room t 
and beginning to clear off the newspapers scat¬ 
tered on it.] I am behaving. 

George. [Straightening himself in the rock¬ 
ing chair.] So am I. 

Sadie. [Getting cooking materials together.'] 
George, I guess you’ll have just about time to 
run over to Mrs. Baldwin’s and back before sup- 


10 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 


per. I want you to ask her for that dollar she 
owes me. If she pays me, I think we can get 
some of the books, if not all of them. [ Begins 
to make biscuit .] 

Mamie. [ Jumping into the air.] Oh, that 
will be splendid. [Spreads newspaper on table 
in place of table-cloth , then goes into other 
room, returning with dishes.] 

George. I’d rather have shoes, if I can’t have 
both. 

Sadie. You can’t have both, just at present; 
but, if it is a possible thing, you must go on 
with your education. Now, run along like a 
good boy. [ Turns dough on the moulding 
board.'] 

Mamie. [Making a face at him as he pass* 
6S.] Hoo! hoo! hoo! Now, don’t you wish 
you’d helped me? [Laughs, and dodges , al¬ 
most upsetting the dishes she is carrying.] 

George. [Makes face, goodnaturedly, then 
laughs.] Naw! Rather go to Baldwin’s. 
[Goes out of the door.] 

Sadie. Table nearly set, Mamie? 

Mamie. [Indignantly.] Why, mother! Do 
you suppose I can do it in a minute? [Goes 
out, returning with knives and forks ] Will a 
dollar buy the books, mother? 

Sadie. Mrs Black paid me a dollar, to-day. 

Mamie. But if you spend both for books, 
what will we have for food? 

Sadie. I did a washing for Mrs. Campbell, 
to=day. 

Mamie. Poor mother! [Goes up and puts 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY ll 

both arms about Sadie.] It is a shame for you 
to have to work so hard. Let me stay out of 
school and help you. I’m a big girl, now 
Sadie. [ Stroking Mamie’s hair.] A big 
girl, and a good one. If you can ever get enough 
education to teach, think how much you will be 
able to help me! It is worth striving for, 
Mamie. 

[Enter Father, reeling. He sees them stand¬ 
ing with their arms around each other, and 
raises his fist as if to strike them. They 
shrink away from him, and escape the blow.] 

Father. Supper ready—hie—yet? 

Mother. Almost ready. 

Father. [Angrily.] Almost? Why isn’t it 
ready,—hie—now ? 

Sadie. [Aside to Mamie, as she goes back to 
her work.] Oh, Mamie! He told me, only this 
morning, that he wouldn’t do it again. 

Father. [Angrily.] Wha’s that? Dont- 
cher dare talk ’bout me, unless you want to feel 
the weight of my fist. [Falls into the rocking 
chair, and immediately goes to sleep , snoring 
loudly.] 

Sadie. Hurry, Mamie, and get the table set. 
The biscuits are ready to bake, now. [Carries 
pan of biscuits to the other room.] 

Mamie. [To audience, fiercely.] If I were 
a man, I’d put everyone who sells whiskey in 
jail for ten—yes, for twenty, years! [Goes out 
of the room in an angry manner.] 

George. [Running into the room and shout * 


12 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 

ing.] I got it, mother. Here’s the dollar. 
[Runs to the chair, discovers his father, and 
backs away.] 

Father. [Rousing up.] Whatcher say? 
Got dollar? Give it to me! Give it to me, I 
say! 

George. [Putting his hands behind him.] 
It belongs to mother. 

Father. [Getting up .] Wha’s her’s ’smine. 
Give it here! 

George. [Edging toward door.'] I’ll ask 
mother. 

Father. You will, hey? [Jumps at George, 
they struggle a moment, and fall, together. 
Father gets the money, holds it up before the 
audience, laughs defiantly, and then staggers 
out the door.] 

Mamie. [Coming in, sees George, runs to 
him, screams, and tries to lift him up.] Moth¬ 
er! Oh, mother! Come here! 

Sadie. [Running in.] What is it? Georgie! 
Georgie, my son! [Falls on her knees beside 
him.] 

George. [Raising himself on his elbow.] 
Don’t worry, mother! I’m not much hurt. 
[Groans, and rubs shoulder.] But the mon¬ 
ey— [Groans and rubs head.] 

Mother. [Supporting him.] What has hap¬ 
pened? 

George. He knocked me down and took the 
dollar. [Hides his face on the floor.] 

Mamie. He did? [Stamps her feet, and 
goes through the motion of pitching someone 
out of the door.] 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 


13 


George. I tried as hard as I could to keep it 
away from him. 

Sadie. Of course you did! Don’t worry 
about it. Come, let me help you up. [Mamie 
and Sadie help him to his feet and lead him to 
the rocking chair.] 

Mamie. But, mother! Our books! 

Sadie. [Sadly.] We shall have to wait, 
dear, until I can get paid for another washing. 
Are you comfortable, George? [Pats cushion 
behind him .] 

George. Mother, he robs us of everything! 

Sadie. It is the whiskey that does it, my son. 
Your father was a good man, once. [Leans on 
the back of the rocking chair, hiding her face 
in her arms , which are folded across it.] 

Mamie. Are you ready for supper, mother? 
[Puts chairs around the table.] 

Sadie. [Pressing both hands to her eyes ] 
I don’t feel like eating, just now. Eat without 
me, children. I am going up stairs a minute. 
[Goes out, slowly.] 

Mamie. She is going away to cry where we 
won’t see her. It makes me mad! [Stamps 
her foot.] 

George. [Starting up, angrily.'] I’d like 
to shoot every saloon keeper, and every man 
who helps make whiskey. 

Mamie. George, shall you drink when you 
are a man? 

George. [ Indignantly] Mamie Clark, how 
dare you ask me such a question? You know I 
won’t. 

Mamie. [Running to him, and patting his 


14 


THE DRUNKARD’S FAMILY 


arm.] Of course I know you won’t. I was 
just teasing you. Now, I’m going to find 
mother and see if I can’t comfort her. [Goes 
out of the door, singing, “Rescue the Per¬ 
ishing”] 

George. [Sinking hack in chair.] I’d rath¬ 
er die than be a drunkard. [ Sits, quietly, for a 
moment, as if in deep thought, then rises slowly, 
and faces the audience.] Ladies and gentle¬ 
men, we should have liked to play that the fath¬ 
er reformed, and got work, and took care of his 
family; but, as a rule, it doesn’t end that way in 
real life, and we wanted to show it just as it is. 

[ Bows, and goes out.] 


THE RIGMAREE 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Ella Gates. 

Mrs. Myra Willis. 

Mrs. Kate Watson. 

Rigmaree, made by two boys or girls. 


This play may be acted in any room. If there 
are no boys to take part in the play, two girls 
can personate the Rigmaree. This character 
should be made as horrible as is possible with 
the materials the children have at hand. The 
girls personating the women should put up their 
hair and wear long dresses. Dolls, a basket of 
clean clothes, a knife and a whetstone, and a dog 
and cat will be needed in the play, besides a 
knotted stick for the Rigmaree’s wand. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Enter Mrs. Ella Gates carrying a basket of 
clean clothes which she deposits on the floor 
beside the table. While she talks, she sprin¬ 
kles and rolls the different pieces as if getting 
them ready to iron.] 





16 


THE RIGMAREE 


Ella. I don’t know why it is, but I feel as if 
something dreadful were going to happen. Per¬ 
haps it’s a cyclone. Oh! I am so afraid of cy¬ 
clones! And blizzards. Maybe it’s a blizzard. 
Oh, well, I have my washing done, whatever 
happens. And it’s safely in the house, and it does 
look just be-a-u-tiful, if I do say so as shouldn’t' 
[Shakes out a pillow-case and looks at it ad¬ 
miringly, then holds it up before the audience .] 
Did you ever see a whiter pillow-case? There 
isn’t a woman in the neighborhood who can 
beat me washing. [Mrs. Myra Willis comes 
rushing in, carrying a large doll under one arm 
and a cat under the other.] 

Myra. Oh, Mrs. Gates! I’m frightened 
almost to death. [ Throws herself into a chair 
and begins to rock violently, still holding the 
cat and doll. 

Ella. [ Running toward her.] My dear 
Mrs. Willis! What can be the matter? [ Puts 
one hand on Myra’s shoulder .] 

Myra. Matter! Matter enough! Is it pos¬ 
sible you haven’t heard? [Myra jumps up and 
begins to walk the floor, excitedly. Ella follows 
her, trying to keep up while she talks. 

Ella. I have heard nothing. What is it? 

Myra. Oh, it is dreadful! 

Ella. [ Wringing her hands.] I knew some¬ 
thing dreadful was going to happen. I felt it 
in my bones. 

Myra. You’ll be lucky if you escape with 
your bones. Oh, what shall we do? I hear it! I 
hear it! Oh! [ Screams, and rushes to the corner 
of the room furthest from the door. Enter Kate 


THE RIGMAREE 


17 


Watson, carrying a doll and dragging a dog.] 
Oh, Mrs. Watson, it is only you! I am so re¬ 
lieved. I thought it was— 

Kate. Isn’t it dreadful? Lie down, Bruno! 
Lie down, I say! You ought to be thankful 
enough to mind, at once, now that I have saved 
your life. 

Ella. [Advancing toward Kate.] I am glad 
to see you, Mrs. Watson. Please be seated. 
How is your baby? 

Kate. Oh, don’t ask me! I don’t know. I 
had just life enough to get her over here. 
[ Places her doll in a chair. ] r 

Ella. But why? why? why? 

Kate. I couldn’t have stayed alone another 
minute! 

Myra. Nor I. I felt as if I should die. 
[Places her doll beside Myra’s, then lifts the 
cat into the same chair.'] We’ll have our fam¬ 
ilies safe, whatever happens. 

Kate. Provided we are safe, ourselves. 

Ella. But what is it all about? 

Kate. Is it possible she hasn’t heard? 

Myra. It looks that way. You tell her. 

Kate. No, you. I don’t dare speak it’s 
name. 

Ella. Ladies, this isn’t fair! You must 
Other tell me what you are talking about, or 
leave my house. I won’t stand it another mo¬ 
ment! 

Myra and Kate. [Standing directly in front 
o/Ella, and whispering loudly.] The Rigmaree 
is in town! 


18 


THE RIGMAREE 


Ella. [Aloud.] The Rigmaree? What is 
that? 

Myra. Hush! Don’t speak his name aloud! 
[Runs to look out of the window.] 

Kate. It* he hears it, he will come, instantly. 
[Runs to look out of the door.] 

Ella. What is he like? Do you see him? 

[ Runs to the window , then to the door.) I’d 
ike to see him. 

Myra. [ Running to Ella , puts her hand over 
her mouth.] Hush! You mustn’t say that. 
Why, they say he reads one’s very thoughts! 

Kate. You won’t want to see him more than 
once, let me tell you that. 

Myra. [ Whispering.) He can make you do 
anything. 

Kate. [ Whispering.] He could—he could 
make you eat up your washing. 

Ella. [Aloud.] Nonsense. I don’t believe 
a word of it. You are ’fraid=cats ’fraid cats! 
You are afraid of your shadow. [ Runs to the 
window again , puts both hands to her mouth 
and calls. J Rigmaree! Oh, Rigmaree! Come 
here, I want you! 

[ Kate and Myra scream , and , picking up their 
dolls and pets , start for the door. It is 
opened , abruptly , amd the Rigmaree enters. 
The Rigmaree consists of two boys under a 
fur robe. If there is no fur robe , use a grey 
blanket. One boy walks bent fomcard ivith 
one hand resting on his knee. In the other 
he carries a wand. The other boy is behind 
him , his arms around the first boy's waist , 


THE RIGMAREE 


19 


with his head resting on his back. When they 
walk, they resemble an animal having four 
legs. The foremost boy should wear a fan¬ 
tastic head of pasteboard, made to look un¬ 
like anything ever yet seen. The children 
should use their ingenuity in dressing this 
character, and shoidd try to see how hideous 
they can make it. The Rigmaree comes 
straight toward Ella, and when it speaks, its 
voice is very deep and dreadfid.] 

Rigmaree. I am the mighty Rigmaree. I 
hear you wish to speak to me. 

Ella. [Motioning him away.] Oh, please 
go away. 

Rigmaree. My dear, you wanted me to 
come. I heard it through my right-hand 
thumb. 

Ella* I want you to go, now! I’ve seen 
enough of you. You frighten me. [Myra and 
Kate steal toward the door.] Oh, Mrs. Wat¬ 
son, Mrs. Willis, don’t leave me! 

Rigmaree. [ Turning toward Kate and 
Myra.] Don’t go ladies; stay awhile, do! 
You see, my friends, I know you, too. [Kate 
and Myra creep back to the easy chair and sink 
into it close together, gathering their pets 
around them.'] 

Rigmaree. [ Waving wand over Ella’s 
head.] Now, Mrs. Gates, I will that you shall 
do whate’er I tell you to. My willing slave you 
now must be, because you dared to call for me. 
[ Turns and waves the wand over Kate and 
Myra.] And you two silly geese shall pay for 


20 


THE RIGMAREE 


all your cowardice this day. Attention, now to 
what I say; for you must die or else obey. 
[Turns to Ella while 'pointing his wand 
toward the clothes basket.] Assume a graceful 
little jog. and put those cloths upon the dog. 

Ella. Oh, Master! But all those clothes are 
clean. And no one in this neighborhood can 
wash —[The Rigmaree points steadily at the 
basket, and Ella finally goes toward it in a 
funny jog trot. While she is wrapping the 
clothes around the dog, she weeps silently. 
The Rigmaree leaves her at work, and turns to 
Myra, pointing the wand at her.] 

Rigmaree. Now, Madam Willis, if you 
please, I’d like to see you make a cheese. 
[Myra gets up and whirls around then 
sinks down as children do in making a 
cheese.'] ’Tis very good. And now, my dear, 
go get your cat; cut off its ear—[Myra /a lls on 
her knees before him.] Nay, do not fall upon 
your knees. You must have meat to eat with 
cheese. [Points his wand at the cat, while 
looking fixedly at Myra. She gets up slowly 
and goes toward her cat, which she takes in her 
arm and kisses. The Rigmaree points his 
wand towards the table, and she goes there and 
picks up a knife and whetstone. While she 
sharpens the knife on the whetstone, the Rig¬ 
maree turns his attention to Kate.] 

Rigmaree. Now, Mrs. Watson, we will see 
how well you’ll dance a jig for me. [Kate 
dances before him.] It was not well. You 
shook with fear, and on your cheek I saw a 
tear. I’m wild with rage, and now I’ll try to 


THE RlGMAREE 


21 


to draw a tear from t’other eye! Go, get your 
babe! Go, madam go! Cut off for me, its 
little toe. I’m going to wear it as a charm, 
bouud close beneath my good right arm. 
[Points toward the doll with his wand and 
stares at Kate, she takes a step towards the 
doll, then halts as if undecided. Suddenly 
she turns, and makes a jump for the Rigma- 
ree.] 

Kate. Monster! I’ll die before I’ll mutilate 
my child. [ Ella and Myra rush to Kate’s 
assistance. ] 

Ella and Myra. Monster! Let’s kill him. 
Help! Help! [Ella, Myra, and Kate fight 
with the Rigmaree; who roars dreadfully 
during the process, and finally push him 
toward the door, and out of the room. Then 
they turn and face the audience, bowing.) 

Kate. It isn’t safe for anyone to come be¬ 
tween a mother and her child. 

Ella and Myra. [ To audience.'} You have 
seen that it is not safe. 

[They all go out together.} 
















































































































































- • 


















THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST, 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 


Mrs. Edna Post. —A widow. 



Old Woman. —The Mysterious Guest. 


| —Mrs. Post’s children. 


All must dress themselves to look very poor. 
Considerable tin money will be required. If 
the money that is made for children’s amuse¬ 
ment cannot be obtained, a tinsmith will cut 
some round pieces of tin, for a small sum, if he 
charges anything at all. A paper bag contain¬ 
ing a little cornmeal, a basin, stirring spoon, 
jug, valise, two darning needles, stockings, and a 
broom and dustpan will also be needed. 

Plays fifteen minutes. 


[Enter Mrs. Edna Post, who is dressed to rep¬ 
resent a middle-aged woman, hard-working 
and very poor. She unties her bonnet and 
places it on a chair , laying her shawl beside 


it] 


Edna. I’m sure I don’t know what is to be¬ 
come of us. Oh, it is so hard to be poor! 





24 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do? 
[ Wringing hands.] Must I see my children 
starve? 

Nellie. [ Rushing into room. ] Did yon buy 
the bread, mother? Where did you put it? 
[Looks under shawl.] 

Edna. [ Taking a broom from corner of room, 
begins sweeping.] There is no bread, my 
daughter. 

Nellie. No bread! But, mother, I’m very 
hungry. 

Edna. I know you are, dear. I’m so sorry. 
[Puis her arm around Nellie.] 

Nellie. Didn’t Mrs. Graham pay you? 

Edna. No. She said it would not be con¬ 
venient before next week. It does seem, some¬ 
times, as if rich people thought of nothing ex¬ 
cept their own convenience. 

Nellie. [Breaking away from Edna, begins 
to pace floor rapidly.] When I’m the lady 
president of the United States— 

Mamie. [Hurrying into the room.] You 
won’t be, Nell. You’ll be dead before I get done 
being president. 

Edna. Oh, Mamie! 

Mamie. I’m hungry, mother. Where did 
you put the bread? [Looks under the 
shawl.] 

Edna. I didn’t bring any, dear. 

Nellie. That horrid old Mrs. Graham didn’t 
pay her. [ Folds shawl and puts it away .] 

Mamie. But mother! What are we going to 
eat? 

Edna. I’ll make some cornmeal mush, pretty 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 25 

soon. [Takes up the dirt and puts the broom 
away.] 

Mamie. [Running to look into a paper bag 
on the table.] The cornmeal is almost gone, 
mother. 

Nellie. [Lifting a jug placed under the 
table.] So is the molasses. 

Edna. I guess there will be enough of both 
for supper. [Looks in bag and lifts jug.] 

Mamie. But what about breakfast? 

Edna. The Lord will provide, dear. We 
haven’t starved, yet. 

Nellie. No, but we’ve been hungry nearly 
all the time for ever and ever so long. 

Edna. There are families who have less than 
we have. We must keep that thought in mind, 
and try to be thankful that we are no worse off. 
Bring me the basin, please, Mamie. [ Rolls up 
sleeves, while Mamie brings cooking idensils.] 

Nellie. I thought I heard someone knock. 
[There is a sound of knocking on the door.] I 
did hear someone. Who can it be? [Goes to 
door, which she opens, revealing an Old Wom¬ 
an.] 

Old Woman. I’m cold and hungry. Won’t 
you please help an old woman who is all alone 
in the world? 

Nellie. Oh, do come in where it is warm! 
You are shivering, dreadfully. [Gives her 
hand to the stranger to help her over the 
threshold.] My! My! How cold your hands 
are! 

Edna. [Coming to meet Old Woman.] My 
dear woman, it is little we can do for you, but 


26 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


you are very welcome to a share of our nice fire. 
[Helps Nellie lead the Old Woman to the stove. 
Mamie comes forward and begins to chafe one 
of her hands. 1 ] 

Old Woman. [ Looking up pitifully.] I’m 
starving. I’ve had nothing to eat for two days. 

Edna. Oh, I am so sorry! [Aside.] What 
shall I do? Have I a right to take food from 
my children, when they must soon be starving, 
too? 

Nellie. [Stepping to her mother's side.] I’m 
not very hungry, mother. 

Mamie. [Coming to the other side.] Let’s 
divide. We’ll go to sleep, pretty soon, and for¬ 
get all about being hungry. 

Edna. What sweet, unselfish girls I have! 
[To guest.] It isn’t much that we can offer 
you—only a little cornmeal mush and molasses 
but you are very welcome to share it with us. 

Old Woman. Are you, too, very poor? 

Edna. We are poor; but I fear there are 
many whose sufferings are greater. We have 
each other, and that is one blessing that we 
sometimes forget. 

Nellie. [Patting Old Woman’s hand.] I 
think we owe you something for coming to see 
us, to=day. We almost had the blues. 

Edna. Are you comfortable? If so, I’ll go 
and make the mush. 

Old Woman. I’m nice and warm, now. If 
you please, I’d like to stir the mush. I have a 
very nice way of making it. 

Edna. You! Indeed, I couldn’t think of al¬ 
lowing you to do it. 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


27 


Old Woman. I have a stick, here, [Drawing 
stick from under cloak.] that gives mush a very 
fine flavor. Pour the meal into the basin, and 
let me show you. Please let me. 

Edna. Well, if it will please you. 

[The Old Woman goes to the table with Edna. 
Mamie and Nellie take seats close together oi 
one end of the room, and begin to darn stock¬ 
ings. Edna yours the meal into the basin, 
then goes to fix the fire, while the Old Wom¬ 
an stirs the meal.] 

Old Woman. [ Covering up the basin.] It 
is stirred enough, now. It must stand covered 
up, like this, for at least twenty minutes before 
water is added. ] Hobbles over to the girls and 
looks at their work. ] 

Edna. It shall be as you say. I need a little 
rest, anyhow. [Seats herself in the rocking 
chair.] 

Old Woman. [Taking Mamie’s stocking.'] 
It seems to me you are puckering your work, 
just a little. [Puts in her stick, and turns it 
around.] On the whole, however, I think you 
do well, [To Nellie.] Do you darn stockings 
as well ? Let me see. [ Takes the stocking, puts 
her stick in it, and, turns it around. She does 
not return Mamie’s stocking ivhen she returns 
Nellie’s, but holds it under her arm.] You do 
your work a little better, but then, I think you 
are a little older. [Both girls nod vigorously.] 
I like girls who work. 

Mamie. We don’t like to work, but we do 
like to help mother. 


28 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


Nellie. [Laughing.] I’m afraid we wouldn’t 
do much darning, if it wasn’t for helping 
mother. 

Old Woman. [Hobbling to door.] By the 
way, there is something just outside the door 
that I must get. 

Nellie. [Jumping up.'] Let me get it for 
you. 

Mamie. [ Jumping up.] Can’t I. 

Edna. [ Jumping up. ] Don’t go out into the 
cold. 

Old Woman. [Turning her head, motions 
them hack with one hand.] Just a minute! 
[ Drops the stockings beside the door, and goes 
out, closing the door behind her.] 

Edna. [Hurries to the door, and opens it.] 
Mv dear woman! It is too cold—why, where is 
she? 

Nellie. [Running to door.] Perhaps she 
went around the corner. [Goes out, followed 
closely by Mamie. Edna stands holding the 
door slightly ajar, so as to look out.] 

Edna. Don’t you see anything of her? 

Mamie. [Coming in followed by Nellie.] 
Not a thing. 

Nellie. We looked carefully. 

Mamie. We went further than so old a per¬ 
son could possibly go in so short a time. 

Edna. It is the strangest thing I ever heard 
of. 

Mamie. It is just as if the ground had 
opened and swallowed her. 

Edna. [Closing the door, and walking 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


29 


slowly toward table.] There might have been 
a carriage— 

Nellie. That poor, old thing in a carriage! 
Edna. But she must have gone off in some 
such way. You don’t suppose she could fly, do 
you? 

[ While they talk, the girls warm their hands by 
the fire. Edna takes the cover from the corn- 
meal, which she begins to stir, then stops, sur¬ 
prised, and lifts the dish closer to her face.'] 

Edna. Why—why—What does it mean? 
Mamie. [Running to her.] What is it, 
mother? 

Edna. Am I dreaming? [Rubs her eyes .] 
See here! [Holds up a silver dollar.] 

Nellie. [ Who has found her stocking.] 
Mercy on me! How— What—Oh, mother!! 
Mother! 

Edna. [Looking up.] What is it? 

Nellie. Just see here! [Holds up silver 

dollar.] . 

Mamie. Stir the meal again, mother. 
[ Jumps up and down, excitedly.] Hurry, and 
stir it again! [Catches sight of Nellie, who has 
seated herself on the floor, and is busy taking 
silver dollars from her stocking.] My good¬ 
ness me! Where is my stocking? [Rushes 
wildly around the room in search of it, then 
seats herself on floor opposite Nellie, and be¬ 
gins to pull money from her stocking. Edna 
comes to rocking chair and seats herself with 
basin in her lap. She stirs vigorously, then 


30 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


takes out a piece of money, and stirs again. 
For a few minutes all are to busy to speak.] 

Edna. There! I guess I’ve taken out the 
last penny, 

Nellie. [Holding up stocking.] It is 

empty. 

Mamie. [Holding up stocking.] Mine, too. 

Nellie. Mother, what ever shall we do with 
it all? Is it ours to keep? 

Edna. I suppose so. 

Mamie. I wish that poor, old woman would 
come back so we could divide with her. 

Nellie. Why, you little goose, it was she 
who gave it to us. 

Edna. I don’t understand it at all. 

Nellie. I do. She’s a fairy. [Gets up, 
holding her dress to keep the money from fall¬ 
ing on the floor. Goes to her mother and 
pours the money in her lap. Mamie follows 
her example, and then the two sisters throw 
their arms around each other, and begin to 
dance around the room.'] 

Girls. [Singing as they dance.] We’ve 
seen a fairy! We’ve seen a fairy. 

Edna. Where shall we keep it? Oh, I 
know! [Goes to table, takes a satchel from un¬ 
der it, then turns her back to the audience, 
while pouring the money into satchel. The 
girls continue dancing.] Come, girls. How 
crazy you act! 

Nellie. Come, where? 

Edna. We’ll go to a restaurant and have a 
good square meal, before we decide how to 


THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST 


31 


spend our money. [Starts toward the door, 
carrying the satchel .] 

Mamie. [As she and Nellie dance toward 
the door.] And mother! let’s each take some 
poor, hungry child to eat with us. 

Edna. Of course we will, if we chance to 
see one. [Holds the door open for the girls 
to dance out, then follows, just turning to how 
to the audience as she makes her last remark .] 
Can you imagine why that woman gave her 
money to us? 



THREE NEWSBOYS. 

Adapted from “ The Little Millers.” 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Max. Tom. Johnny 


This play is written for three boys, one some¬ 
what smaller than the others. They should be 
dressed poorly. All should carry papers, and 
Max should have a bootblack’s outfit, besides. 

The boys will have to learn how to make a 
great show of fighting, without hurting one an¬ 
other, and how to fall without hurting them¬ 
selves. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Enter Max with bootblack's box strapped 
across his shoulder , and a newspaper in his 
hand. He leans against the wall , and ap¬ 
pears to be deeply interested in something he 
is reading. Tom and Johnny come in. Theii • 
heads are close together , and they seem to be 
88 





THREE NEWSBOYS 


• 34 

whispering quite confidentially. They do not 

see Max.] 

Tom. [ Aloud.) I tell you, Johnny, I know 
how we can make big money. 

Johnny. How? Does anyone else know 
about it? 

Tom. Not many. I’ll let you into the se¬ 
cret, though, if you will promise never to tell 

Johnny. Course I won’t tell. What should 
I want to give it away for? 

[ The two boys stop in centre of room, and be - 

gin to whisper.] 

Max. [Aside.] They’ve no right to have a 
corner on jobs when there are folks who are 
starving. I’ll find out what it is. [ Goes to¬ 
ward the two boys. They see him coming , and 
start to run , but he catches them.] 

Max. [Catching Johnny by the shoulder.] 
Helloa, fellows! Niceday isn’t it? [Tom sfarfe 
to run, and Max lets go of Johnny and catches 
him.] Hold on! [/S/iOMfs in Tom’s ear.] Fine 
day, isn’t it? 

Tom. [Crossly.] There’s no call for you to 
split a fellow’s head open. 

Max. [Pleasantly.] I’ve got to speak so 
folks can hear. 

Tom. Well, what do you want. 

Max. Want to know how much you’ll take 
for your secret. 

Tom. I have no secret. 

Max. What’ll you take for what you know? 
I’m in earnest. [Tom tries to edge away , but 


THREE NE'WSBOYS 


35 


Max dances around so as to always keep in 
front of him. Johnny stands at one side, watch¬ 
ing them, his hands thrust into his pockets .] 

Tom. [ Contemptuously .] It will take more 
than you own to pay for what I know. 

Max. [Laughing.'] Oh, get out! Why, you 
don’t know me. I am the Governor’s only son. 
I Holds his head up very high while making 
this announcement, and Tom nearly, hut not 
quite, breaks away from him.] 

Tom. Shucks. You can’t fool me. I saw 
you blacking a fellow’s boots, just now. 

Johnny. I saw him, too. He overheard what 
you said, Tom, and he’s dying to know the rest. 

Max. [To Johnny.] You’re a good guesser. 
[To Tom.] Well, out with it. I mean to know. 

Tom. [Sneering.] You do, eh? Let’s see 
you find out. 

Max. 1 have a family to support, and when 
there are hungry folks to be fed, no one has a 
right to corner a job. You’ve got to tell me 
what you know. 

Tom. We won’t do it. We’ll let you know 
you can’t boss us. 

Max. [Rolling up his sleeves.] I can lick 
you until you’ll be glad to tell. 

Tom. [Sneering.] Both of us together? 
Come on, Johnny. 

[ The hoys pretend to fight, and Max finally piles 

both Tom and Johnny on the ground, thpn 

places one foot on Tom to hold him down.] 

Max. Got enough? 

Tom. Yes; let me up. 


36 


THREE NEWSBOYS 


Johnny. Oh, dear! My arm hurts! Oh, 
dear me! 

Max. Will you tell? 

Tom. Yes. 

Max. Honor bright? 

Tom. Honor bright. 

Max. Hope to die if you don’t? 

Tom. Hope to die if I don’t. 

Max. All right. I trust to your honor. 
[Bends over Johnny, who is still crying, and 
lifts him to his feet, then wipes his tears away.] 
I hurt you more than I meant to, and I’m down¬ 
right ashamed of myself. [ Brushes Johnny’s 
clothes, then puts his hands in his pocket and 
takes out a newpenny, which he hands to him.'] 
Here, take this. It is the first time I ever licked 
a chap who was smaller than I am. 

Tom. [ Who had got on his feOt, and was 
watching Max.] Well you are a queer one! 

Johnny. I like you in spite of the licking. 
[Puts the penny in his pocket.] 

Max. A big*boy who licks a little boy isn’t 
fit to be liked. He is only fit to be kicked. 

Tom. All right; I’ll kick you! 

Max. No you won’t. That is a little job 
that I always do for myself. [ Walks around 
kicking himself vigorously. Tom and Johnny 
laugh heartily.] 

Max. Now to business. What’s the secret? 
Where’s the job? 

Tom. You won’t tell anyone else, will you? 

Max. Not a tell. 

Tom. Honor bright? 

Max. Honor bright. 


THREE NEWSBOYS 


Tom. Hope to die if you do? 

Max. Hope to die if I do. 

Tom. Well, [ The boys draw closer together.] 
I have got on the right side of a fellow who lets 
me sweep out the wheat cars when they are un¬ 
loaded. 

Max. Yes? What of it? 

Tom. We have all the wheat we sweep out. 
Don’t you see? 

Max. Can you sell it? 

Tom. You bet we can. 

Johnny. [Jumping up and down excitedly.] 
It’s as easy as sliding down a greased pole. 

Max. Who buys it? 

Tom. A chicken-feed man. 

Max. Who? 

Tom. A man who sells chicken feed. I 
made seventy^five cents yesterday. 

Max. [ Astonished .] Get out! 

Tom. I did, for a fact. 

Johnny. [Jumping.] He hasn’t told you 
all, yet. Hurry up, Tom! 

Tom. [ Embarrassed .] There is not much 
more; nothing, in fact, worth telling. 

Max. [Catching Tom by the collar .] See 
here, fellow, you agreed to tell it all. 

Tom. [ Squirming .] Let go. You’ll know 
the rest when you get there. 

Max. I want to know it now. 

Tom. Well, it’s only this: There are chances 
to get a peck or two a day out of some of the 
full cars. 

Johnny. And it’s all right to do so! Tom 
said so! 


38 


THREE NEWSBOYS 


Tom. You see it is owned mostly by rich 
folks who have stolen it from poor folks. We 
are only taking what really belongs to us, and 
rich folks never know the difference. 

Max. [Scornfully.'] You low, miserable 
thief! I hate myself for talking to you a min¬ 
ute! I despise myself even for licking such a 
chap! [ Turns to walk away.] 

Johnny. [Running after Max, catches him 
by the hand.] Wait a minute. I want to ask 
you something. Is it stealing? 

Max. Course it is. The wheat doesn’t be¬ 
long to him, or to you, or to me, does it? 
Johnny. But Tom said— 

Max. I guess he has said a good many 
things that are not true. Does he let folks see 
him take the wheat? 

Johnny. No. 

Max. Wouldn’t he if it belonged to him? 
Johnny. I—I guess so. If you please, I’d 
rather go with you. 

Max. Well, come on. We may have to 
work hard, but we’ll be honest. [ They go out.] 
Tom. [ Who has been standing with bent 
head and digging his toes into the ground as if 
ashamed , now raises his head and looks defi¬ 
ant. ] It is easy enough to talk; but such fel¬ 
lows never get rich, and I mean to be rich some 
day. I’ll have money, I don’t care how I get 
it. [Goes out.] 

[Enter Max, with a bundle of papers under 
his arm.] 

Max. Pa-pe-r-r-rs! All about the suicide. 


THREE NEWSBOYS 


0'J 


New gold mine discovered. Evening Journal, 
only two cents! Paper, sir? Paper, ma’am? 
[Offering papers to audience.] Pa-pe-r-r-rs! 
Shine em up! Only five cents! Shine, sir? 
[ To gentleman in audience.] 

[ Enter Johnny, running. He runs against 
Max, and is brought up suddenly .] 

Johnny. Land o’ goshen! 

Max. [Laughing.] Want to kill a fellow? 
Johnny. I didn’t see you. I must hurry. 
Max. What’s the rush? 

Johnny. Going for the doctor. Tom fell 
out of a wheat car, and I guess he’s killed. 

Max. Was he stealin’ wheat? 

Johnny. Yes; isn’t it too bad? [Runs 
around the room, then out the door.] 

Max. [ To audience.] This seems to be one 
more case where honesty is the best policy. 
Well, I’ll go and see if I can do anything for 
Tom. The poor chap never had a home, and I 
suppose I ought not to blame him. [Leaves 
the room , calling his papers as he goes.] 



THE STOLEN CAT. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 


Edith. 

Alma. 

Carl. 


Will. 

Joe. 

Harry. 


This little play may be acted on a stage, but 
was written for a family sitting-room, having 
one door leading into a hall, and one leading 
into the dining-room, and where nothing in the 
way of stage accessories could be provided. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Enter Carl and Will, from hall. They have 

masks over their faces and come in stealthily. ] 

Carl. This is the place. 

Will. Where is the cat? [Voices are heard 
outside of the door.'] 

Carl. Some one is coming. We must hide. 
[Carl crawls under the couch. Will hides be¬ 
hind an easy chair that is drawn into a 
corner.] 





42 


THE STOLEN CAT 


Will. [ In loud whisper. ] Are you all 

right, Carl? 

Carl. Yes, do keep still. 

[Enter Edith and Alma from dining-room 
Edith carries a cat and appears to be in her 
own home. Alma has her wraps on, for she 
has come calling .] 

Edith. She is the very nicest cat I ever had. 
Indeed, she ought to be, for she cost a hundred 
dollars. 

Alma. A hundred dollars! Is she worth it? 
[ The girls seat themselves so as to face each 
other. Edith strokes the cat while she talks.] 
Edith. Yes, and more. We bought her when 
she was only a kitten. She is the daughter of a 
famous old cat that once saved a city from 
burning up, and a mouse simply can’t live in 
her presence. They die of fright. 

Alma. But would she bring a hundred dol¬ 
lars? That’s the question 

Edith. Bring it? Of course she would. 
Anyone who understands cats would give it 
and be glad to. 

Alma. What a responsibility it must be to 
take care of so precious an animal! Well, I 
must be going. The children will soon be com¬ 
ing from school. 

Edith. Oh, don’t be in a hurry! You come 
so seldom. 

Alma. [Rising. ] I pay everyone of your 
visits, my dear! Now, when am I to be indebted 
to you for another? 

Edith. [Rising.] Oh, I don’t know. I’ll 


THE STOLEN CAT 


43 


come as soon as ever I can; but Mistress Muff, 
here, [Raising the cat to her face.] does take 
so much of my time. You see, we are getting 
her ready for the great cat show that is to take 
place next month. We fully expect she will 
win the hundred dollar prize. 

Alma. Indeed! I really hope you will get 
it. Well, good-bye. Come over as soon as you 
possibly can. [ Goes toward door.] 

Edith. I shall surely do so. But please 
don’t wait for me. Come again. [Alma goes 
out , kissing tips of her fingers to Edith.] 

Edith. Now, kitty, you must sleep in this 
rocking chair while I do the chamber work. 
I’ve been dreadfully slow about my work this 
morning [Arranges the cushions in a rock¬ 
ing chair, and lays the cat down, then covers 
her with a shawl, and remains bending over her 
until she is perfectly quiet.] There! there! 
[Sings a few lines of a cradle song, leaving 
the room very gradually as she sings, as if 
afraid of awaking the cat. She goes into the 
dining-room, and as she closes the door behind 
her, Carl and Will peer cautiously, from their 
hiding-places.'] 

Carl. [In a loud whisper.] It’s all right, 
Will, she’s gone. [Crawls from under the 
couch.] 

Will. But she left the cat. [Comes from 
behind the chair, and both boys tiptoe to the 
rocking chair holding the cat.] 

Carl. She said it was worth a hundred dollars. 
Will. And that it would bring a hundred* 
dollar prize at the show. 


44 


THE STOLEN CAT 


Carl. We can take her to the cat show. 

Will. But somebody might recognize her. 

Carl. We’ll paint her a different color. 

Will. [ Slapping his knee.] Good idea! 
We’ll each have a hundred dollars, after the 
show for we’ll sell her immediately. 

Carl. Where’s the bag? 

Will. [Producing a calico hag from his 
pocket.'] Here it is. Put her in. [Carl lifts 
the cat into the hag, while Will holds it, then 
the hoys tiptoe toward the door leading into the 
hall.] 

Carl. [Stopping near door.] Great Scott! 
I hear someone coming. Jump through the 
window, Will. [The hoys hurry to the window, 
which they try to raise, and fail. Edith is 
heard singing outside the door.] 

Will. What in time shall we do? 

Carl. Get under the couch, quick! Take 
the cat with you. [Will gets under the couch 
with the cat. Carl hides behind the chair.] 

Edith. [Coming into the room.] Come, 
kitty, it is time for your lunch. [Goes to the 
rocking chair where she left the cat sleeping.] 
Why, that naughty cat isn’t here! Kitty, kitty, 
kitty! [Cat mews, or Will mews for her.] 
Where are you, kitty? [Looks around the 
room. Cat mews again.] Mercy on me, where 
can she be? She sounds as if she were being 
smothered. Kitty, kitty, kitty! Come kitty! 
Come, my pretty Muff! [ Cat mews again.] 
She’s under the couch! Why don’t the silly 
thing come out? [ Looks under the couch, and 
rushes screaming to the other side of the room.] 


THE STOLEN CAT 


45 


Oh, a man! A horrid man! [Pushes chair 
away from corner, so as to get behind it, and 
sees Carl.] Oh, another man! Murder! Thieves! 
Fire! fire! fire! 

Will. [ Jumping up, puts his hand over her 
mouth.] Hush! You’ll have the whole neigh¬ 
borhood here! 

Carl. [Coming from hiding-place .] Choke 
her! Choke her! 

Edith. [Trying to free herself and scream¬ 
ing in a muffled ivay.] I want the whole neigh¬ 
borhood! 

Carl. Madam, be calm. We’ll explain. 

Will. [Laughing.] What shall we say? 

Carl. Madam, the cat has hydrophobia. We 
are cat doctors. 

Will. [Aside.~\ Oh, the rascal! [Laughs.] 
Cat doctors, indeed! [Laughs again.] 

Edith. Hydrophobia! Oh, my Muff will 
die! [Sinks to the floor, and begins to cry.] 

Carl. [Soothingly.] No, she won’t. I’ll 
cure her. Let me take her to my office— 

Edith. Can’t you cure her here? 

Will. [Aside, with a wink to the audience. ] 
W ell, hardly. 

Carl. That would be impossible. You 
see I must take her where my instruments 
are. 

Edith. [In alarm.] Instruments! 

Carl. I shan’t hurt her. 

Edith. [To Will.] Take her out of that 
bag, you miserable villian! 

Will. If I should, she would bite a hole in 
each one of us. 


46 


THE STOLEN CAT 


Edith. She was all right when I left the 
room only an hour ago. 

Carl. Hydrophobia always comes on quick¬ 
ly. Let me help you up, madam. [Offers his 
hand to Edith. She accepts it, and Carl helps 
her up, and leads her to an easy chair where 
he seats her very politely.] I am sorry for 
you, madam; but if you’ll only be patient a lit¬ 
tle while— 

Will. [ Aside, as he pats the cat .] Just un¬ 
til we get the two hundred dollars. 

Edith. How can I be patient in the face of 
this dreadful trial? [$o6s.] 

Carl. We’ll bring your cat back as soon as 
we possibly— 

Alma. [ Outside the door, is heard speaking 
very excitedly.] This is the house! I saw 
them go in here. The wretches! [Door opens 
and Alma walks in with Joe and Harry, who 
are dressed to represent policemen.] 

Joe. Villians! I arrest you! [Brandishes 
club. 1 ] 

Harry. Wretches, so do I! [Brandishes 
club.] 

Alma. [Buns to Edith and throws her arms 
around her. ] Poor, dear girl! 

[Carl and Will try to escape, but are caught 
by the policemen. Will drops cat, and Alma 
picks her up, while the scuffle goes on be¬ 
tween the boys, takes her from the bag, and 
restores her to Edith, who kisses her. The 
policemen bring Carl and Will to front of 


THE STOLEN CAT 


47 


stage, and the girls take places beside them , 
then all bow and say in chorous:] 

“You see what happens to those who steal 
cats.” 











" 







WHAT AILED MAUDIE. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Hazel Lindley. Grover Lindley 

Maudie Lindley. Dr. Lloyd. 

Tom Jones. 


One girl acts as mother, the other girl as 
daughter. One boy is the son, another is his 
friend, and a third is the doctor. If there are 
not enough boys, one boy can personate both 
Tom and the doctor, and, with a change in 
names, a girl can take Grover’s part. If there 
were no boys at all, girls could act the entire 
play, by simply changing the names and having 
a woman doctor. If the one personating Tom 
can do anything better than acting like the 
chicken, it will be easy to make the change. 

Plays fifteen minutes. 


[Enter Mrs. Hazel Lindley with a dust cloth. 
She begins to dust the f urniture , and to put 
things to rights , talking to herself while she 
works. ] 


49 





50 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


Hazel. I don’t see what ails Maudie of late. 
She seems dreadfully nervous. I believe she 
has cried at least five times a day during the 
past week, and no matter how much I question 
her, she simply won’t tell what ails her. I 
don’t believe she knows. If she goes on this 
way much longer I shall certainly have to 
send for a doctor. 

[ Eater Maudie with her handkerchief pressed 
to her eyes. She throws herself into a rock¬ 
ing chair , and begins to sob and moan aloud. 
Her mother leaves her work and stands be¬ 
side her, gently smoothing her hair.] 

Hazel. Maudie dear, do tell mamma what 
ails you. It hurts me to have you cry like this. 
[Maudie sobs harder.'] Maudie, I can’t allow 
you to go on like this. It will make you sick; 
besides, it is ridiculous. [ Speaks very firmly.] 
Now, stop it at once! Stop it, I say! I don’t 
want to speak to you again. [Maudie contin¬ 
ues crying.] Maudie, do you hear me? If you 
do not stop crying, instantly, I shall send for 
the doctor and he will give you some nasty 
medicine. [Shakes Maudie, who cries harder 
than ever. Hazel looks at her for a moment, 
quite thoughtfully, then goes to the door and 
calls.] Grover! Oh, Grover! Grover Lind- 
ley, I want you! 

Grover. [Coming into the room with a 
jump.] Yes’m. What do you want? 

Hazel. You must go for Dr. Lloyd. Tell 
him to come at once. 

Grover. What for? 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


51 


Hazel. Don’t stop to ask questions. Go at 
once. [Hazel returns to her work, and Maudie 
sits with her handkerchief to her eyes. Pres - 
ently, there is a knock at the door. Hazel 
opens it, and Dr. Lloyd comes in, wearing 
glasses and carrying a medicine case.] 

Dr. Lloyd. Good morning, madam! 

Hazel. Oh, doctor, I’m so glad to see you! 
I’m afraid my daughter is very ill. 

Dr. Lloyd. [Going to Maudie.] Is this the 
young lady? What seems to be the trouble? 

Hazel. I can’t find out. She cries, like this, 
a good shpre of the time. 

[Doctor goes to Maudie, and feels her pulse, 
looking at his watch as he does so. Hazel 
stands, with one hand on the hack of Maud- 
ie’s chair. ] 

Dr. L. Doesn’t she give herself any time to 
breathe? 

Hazel. Oh, yes; but when she isn’t crying, 
she looks as sad as if she had lost every friend 
she ever had. She won’t speak or smile. 

Dr. L. How long has this been going on? 
Hazel. A little more than a week. 

Dr. L. Look up, Miss Maudie. I want to 
see your tongue. [He pulls Maudie’s hands 
away from her face, although she struggles to 
keep them there .] Mrs. Lindley, I shall have 
to trouble you to hold her hands. [Hazel holds 
Maudie’s hands, while the doctor examines her 
- face through an opera glass. Then he takes a 
fork from his case of instruments, and pro¬ 
ceeds to pry open her mouth with the handle, 


52 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


Maudie suddenly opens her mouth and runs 
out her tongue at him. ] 

Dr. L. [ Nodding .] I thought so! It was 
a brief glimpse, but quite sufficient. [ Takes a 
long tube made of brown paper from his medi¬ 
cine case, and, resting one end against Maud- 
ie’s chest, applies his ear to the other. Maudie 
jerks herself away from it.] 

Hazel. Do you think it is her lungs, doctor? 
Dr. L. In my opinion it is the entire out¬ 
fit-lungs, heart, liver—everything. [ Takes out 
a bottle of medicine which he hands to Hazel.] 
Give her a teaspoonful of this every hour. 
Keep her amused. Make her laugh, if you 
possibly can. If you see any change in her, 
send for me, at once. [ Goes to door, turns and 
bows, as he leaves.'] Good morning, madam. 

Hazel. [ Walking some distance from 
Maudie, faces audience , with her hands on her 
hips.] He said I was to keep her amused. 
[ Looks at Maudie, who has commenced sobbing 
again.] He said I was to make her laugh. 
She looks as if she’d like to laugh, doesn’t she? 
Oh, dear, dear, dear, this world is full of 
trouble! \_Goes to door and calls.] Oh, 
Grover! Grover Lindley! I want you. 

Grover. [Comes in with a jump, as before.] 
Yes’m. What you want? 

Hazsl. Grover, the doctor says we’ve got to 
make Maudie laugh. 

Grover. Let’s tickle her. 

Hazel. That might make her have fits. No, 
that won’t do. Can’t you think of something 
else? 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


53 


Grover. I’ll get Tom Jones. [Runs out of 
the house. Hazel goes to Maudie, and, placing 
herself before her, begins to make up faces.] 
Hazel. Look at my face, Mand. I want to 
sneeze, and I can’t make it come. Doesn’t it 
make my face look funny? [ Wriggles her 
nose, and giggles. Maudie looks at her, then 
bursts into a very loud fit of weeping ] 

Hazel. [To audience.] Now, what shall I 
do? I almost cracked my face to make her 
laugh, and it has made her worse. I can’t do 
anything funnier than that. 

Grover. [Coming in with a jump.] Here’s 
Tom. 

[Tom enters, comically dressed in clothes m\ ch 
too large for him.] 

Hazel. How do you do, Mr. Jones? My son 
seems to think that you can help me. Has he 
told you what the doctor said? 

Tom. [Nodding his head vigorously.] You 
bet he has. 

[ Walks to the chair where Maudie sits with 
her eyes covered, and gives her a sounding 
kiss on the cheek.] 

Maudie. [ Jumping up, angrily, and uncov¬ 
ering her face,] How dare you! 

[Tom does not reply, but, pulling out his hand¬ 
kerchief, begins to sob as Maudie did. 
Maudie sinks back into the chair, and again 
covers her eyes with her handkerchief. Tom 


54 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


gives her another loud kiss, and again she 
jumps up angrily ,] 

Maudie. How dare you, I say? Mother, 
why do you allow it? [Starts to leave the room 
hut Grover gets ahead of her and leans against 
the door. Tom dances wildly around her, sob¬ 
bing all the while in a very loud key.'] 

Hazel. [Picking up some sewing and seat¬ 
ing herself at one side of the room.] He has 
succeeded in arousing her, anyhow. I think 
I’ll just let them alone. [Sews busily.] 

Maudie. [Returning to chair.] You are a 
dreadful w T retch, and I hate you! I hate you, 
and hate you, and hate you! [Starts to put her 
handkerchief to her eyes again, but Tom makes 
a loud kissing sound, and she hastily draws it 
away and looks at him as if afraid.] 

Tom. [Drawing a chair so close in front of 
Maudie that their knees touch, and speaking 
very seriously.] Quack, quack, quack. 

Maudie. Go away. [Puts handkerchief to 
eyes. Tom smacks his lips and she draws 
it away. Grover giggles and comes a step 
nearer.] 

Tom. [ Mournfully .] B-a-h! B-a-a-h! 
B-aaa-h! 

Maudie. Mother, can’t you make this, this 
idiot leave the house? 

Hazel. [Working busily.] I rather like 
him. 

Tom. Mew! Meouw! Put-r-r, meouw, meouw, 
meouw! 

[Maudie starts to cry, without putting her 


WHAT AILED MAUDiE 55 

handkerchief to her eyes, hut Tom smacks his 
lips two or three times, and she straightens 
her face, instantly .] 

Grover. [Coming nearer.] Hurrah! Give 
her some more, Tom! 

Tom. Mew! Bow-wow! Quack! Gobble- 
gobble! [Jumps up and begins scratching 
with his feet, like a chicken, then calls as hens 
do when they find a worm. 

Maadie. I won’t stand it! You treat me 
shamefully! You—you—oh, what a goose you 
are! [Begins to laugh, a little at first, then so 
hard that she can't seem to stop.] 

Hazel. [ Watches her a moment, then jumps 
up, throwing down her work, and runs to 
Maudie’s side.] Maudie! Maudie! Can’t you 
stop laughing? Oh, this is dreadful! [To Tom, 
who is still scratching like a chicken.] Go 
away, at once! You’re killing her! Grover, do 
get the doctor, quick! 

[Hazel fans Maudie with her apron. Tom 
leaves the room with Grover. Maudie shakes 
with laughter, hut only laughs aloud occa¬ 
sionally, and then with her hands to her side, 
as if she were very tired.] 

Grover. [Coming in with a jump.'] Here is 
the doctor. 

Dr. L. [Hurrying to Maudie.] It is as I 
thought. Madam, the medicine works perfectly. 
Your daughter is not ill, but is suffering from a 
guilty conscience. 

Hazel, Oh, doctor, that isn’t possible. 

Dr. L. I cannot be mistaken in the symp- 


56 


WHAT AILED MAUDIE 


toms. [To Maudie.] My child, you’d better 
tell the truth. You won’t feel real well until 
you do. You see, we all know, now, what is the 
trouble with you. 

Maudie. [Ceases laughing , and begins to 
cry.] Oh, I’m so ashamed! No one will ever 
like me again. 

Hazel. Maudie, what did you do? 

Grover. I know. I’ve known all the time. 
She— 

Hazel. Hush, Grover, let Maudie tell. 

Maudie. I—I—oh, I can’t tell it. 

Dr. L. Yes, you can. What did you do? 

Maudie. I—I—killed grandma’s cat. 

Grover. She drowned it, ’cause it ate her 
pet squirrel. 

Hazel. Killed grandma’s cat! Maudie, how 
could you? 

Dr. L. Madam, good morning! My patient 
will soon be well, now. A guilty conscience al¬ 
ways causes much suffering. [ Bows and leaves 
the room.] 

Hazel. Maudie, we must go straight to 
grandma and ask her forgiveness. Grover, go 
tell papa that I shall send Maudie to the wood¬ 
shed in about ten minutes. 

Grover. [To audience .] That means she’s 
going to get a licking. [Runs out of the room. 
Hazel follows , leading Maudie, who cries bit¬ 
terly. When they have all left the room, 
Grover is heard calling outside the door.] 

Grover. Pa! Oh, pa! Ma says get your 
strap and go into the woodshed! You’ve got to 
lick Maudie for killing grandma’s cat! 


IN KLONDYKE. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 


Dick. 

Ned. 

Harry. 

Dave. 


Will. 

Jack. 

Charlie. 

Nathan. 


Eight boys are required for this play, and at 
least four of them must be able to commit a lit¬ 
tle speech, and declaim it effectively. No stage 
properties are required with the exception of a 
heavy rope. This play, when well acted, is ex¬ 
ceedingly interesting, and may be used as a 
Friday afternoon exercise at school quite as 
well as in the home. 

Plays fifteen minutes. 


[Enter Dick and Ned, talking earnestly. They 
walk slowly to the front of the stage, where 
they stand facing each other wfiile they talk.] 

Dick. I think we shall have a lively meeting, 
tomight. 


57 





58 


IN KLONDYKE 


Ned. I guess all the boys expect to be 
present. 

Dick. Shall you speak? 

Ned. I don’t expect to. I may, though, if I 
get excited. 

Dick There is no doubt but you’ll get ex¬ 
cited fast enough. This is new business to 
most of us, I fancy. 

Ned. It is to me, I know. I wish I were 
well out of it. 


[Enter Harry and Dave, arm in arm.~\ 
Harry. I declare I wish it were over. 

You don’t wish it any more than I do 
[To Dick and Ned.] Helloa, boys! 
You got here before us. 

Yes, we’re early birds. 

• I hope we’re not the worms. 

Poor Nathan is the worm, I guess. 


Dave. 

Harry 

Dave. 

Dick. 

Harry, 

Ned. 


<x little , then suddenly grow 


[All laugh 
serious .] 

Harry. That’s tough, Ned. 

Ned. I know it. I suppose I said it because 
1 m excited. I m new to this business. 

,, Dic . k - So are we all. But we mustn’t show 
the white feather. 

Dave. Nathan’s bound to hang. 

[Thefour boys gather in a ring, and beqin 
whispering together, as if greatly excited. 
Jack enters, unobserved, looks at them, curi¬ 
ously, then takes a seat at one end of the room 
In a few moments Will a ,nd Charlie enter drag¬ 
ging Nathan, whose hands are tied behind 
him, and whose feet are so fastened together 


IN KLONDYKE 


59 


that he can only take very short steps. A 
handkerchief covers his mouth, and a rope is 
wound around his icaist.] 

Ned. [Looking around as the boys enter.] 
There they come! 

[All look around, then hurry to get. seats. 
They do not sit very near Jack. Will and 
Charlie lead their prisoner to a place where 
he faces the others, then remain standing on 
either side of him.] 

Charlie. Well, boys, what shall we do with 
him? 

Ned, Dave and Harry. Hang him! Hang 
him! We must hang him! 

Dick. Let the fellow speak. Let’s hear what 
he has to say for himself. 

Will. [Removing the handkerchief from 
Nathan’s mouth.] Speak up. What have you 
to say for yourself? 

Nathan. Gentlemen, I can say little that 
you will care to consider. I admit that I stole 
the bread— 

Ned, Dave and Harry. Hear! Hear! 
Charlie. He admits that he stole the bread. 
Nathan. And I knew the penalty— 

Ned, Dave and Harry. He knew the penalty. 
Dick. Do you expect mercy? 

Nathan. I do not. I thought it all out be¬ 
fore I took the bread. I was starving,—starving! 
Do you know what that means? 

Ned. We’re likely to know before springy 
Nathan. But you don’t know, yet. You 
can’t even imagine. I thought I would be 


60 


IN KLONDYKE 


brave, and starve without a murmur. I told 
myself that I would not be the first to suffer the 
punishment we voted to inflict upon anyone who 
stole food. I tried to live up to that resolution. 
Gentlemen, I tried as I have never before in all 
my life tried to do anything: but starvation made 
a coward of me. I was a strong man when I 
came to Klondyke,—strong and honorable. I 
am a weak man, now, and a thief. I saw the 
bread, and could not resist the temptation. I 
thought I must eat, even though I were to be 
hung the next moment. I have nothing more to 
say. [ Stands with bent head. There is si¬ 
lence in the room for a few moments , and all the 
boys sit with covered faces.) 

Harry. [Rising to his feet.) Gentlemen: 
ihis is a most unpleasant task. I would gladly 
be rid of it, but it is a case where duty and in¬ 
clination do not walk together. When we came 
to Klondyke, we knew that starvation was one 
of the many dangers that confronted us, and we 
made laws by which we all agreed to be gov¬ 
erned. That man, [Pointing to Nathan.] helped 
make the law which he was first to break. 
If any of our laws are to be kept, punishment 
must be inflicted in this first instance. I should 
say the same if he were my own brother. \ Sits 
down amid the applause of the others.'] 

Dick. If the winter were nearly at an end, I 
should be in favor of overlooking this first of¬ 
fense ; but it has just begun. Our food is already 
low. Unless help comes, more than one of us 
must die before spring. No man has any moral 
right to shorten the life of another by stealing 


IN KLONDYKE 


61 


the food that is more precious than all the gold 
we have found. Each of us brought a certain 
amount of food with us. It is not the fault of 
those who brought the larger quantity that 
others brought less. [Sits. The other boys 
whisper together.] 

Ned. [Rising.] Well, gentlemen, we are all 
of the same opinion, are we not? 

Will. He must hang. 

Ned. They who are in favor of hanging, will 
please say, Aye. 

All Together. Aye. [Will unwinds rope 
from Nathan’s waist , and slips noose over 
his head.'] 

Ned. Contrary, Nay! 

Jack. [ Rising. ] Nay! [ There is great 
commotion , and Jack stands until the others 
quiet down. Will stands holding other end of 
rope.] Gentlemen I should like to be heard a 
moment, if you please. You all know that the 
bread was stolen from me. Yet I have not au¬ 
thorized this meeting. Should I not at least have 
been consulted? 

Dave. We waited two days for you to act. 

Ned. There is a principle involved which we 
cannot ignore. 

Charlie. It is a case of self-preservation. 

Jack. But listen! I did not help to make 
that law. I came here, later, and so I cannot 
be bound by it, for I have never indorsed it. I 
would have scorned to make a law like that. It 
places us beneath the savages. Is it possible 
that we came from Christian homes—that we 
have lived in civilized communities? Gentle- 


62 


IN KLONDYKE 


men, that law is all wrong. It must not be 
obeyed. Let us put our food together, and divide 
it equally. If we must die, let us die together, 
like men. I have a larger stock of provisions 
than any two of you, and you surely cannot ac¬ 
cuse me of a mean motive in making this propo¬ 
sition. Whether you accept it or not, I want 
this one thing understood. That, man [ Pointing 
to Nathan.] is my brother. [Nathan looks up, 
surprised, and a murmur of surprise runs 
through Jack’s audience.] I adopt him as such, 
here, before you all, and I solemnly declare that 
what is mine, is my brother’s also. He did not 
steal that bread! He took what belonged to 
him. [Goes to Nathan, and throws one arm 
around his shoulder. Nathan hides his face on 
Jack’s shoulder. There is perfect silence, for a 
moment, then the other boys begin to clap their 
hands, aud stamp their feet, and whistle.] 

Ned. Three cheers for Jack Whitney! [ The 

boys cheer.] 

Will. Three cheers for Nathan Brown! [ The 
boys cheer. Jack unties the cords that bind Na¬ 
than, Will and Charlie helping him. The other 
boys crowd around them, and everybody shakes 
hands.] 

Jack. [ Waving his cap over his head.'] At¬ 
tention! Attention! Boys, I have a tempound 
fruit cake that I have been saving for some 
special occasion! 

Ned. This is the occasion. 

Jack. So I think! Come on! I’ll be minus 
a fruit cake in less than half an hour. 

[All go out, cheering for Jack.] 


MARIAN’S WISH. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Marian. Harland. 

Hazel. Pliny. 

Marie. 


Frequently, the very little folks wish to take 
part in the plays given at home, but are not 
allowed to do so because they are too small to 
commit the lines to memory. This play is 
written especially for their benefit,—the char¬ 
acters, “Pliny” and “Marie” not being re¬ 
quired to speak at all. The entire play has 
been planned for the younger members of 
the family, and may be played by quite small 
children. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Marian comes in, carrying her doll, which she 
has wrapped up very carefully, and is sing¬ 
ing to sleep. She may sing a verse of any 
little song she knows. When it is finished, 
she must lay the doll in its cradle. Harland 
63 





64 


MARIAN’S WISH 


runs in, at that moment, jumps over the 

cradle, then turns and pulls the doll out by 

its head. 

Marian. [Stamping her feet.] Oh, dear 
me! I never did see such a bad boy as you are 
getting to be. 

Harland. [Dancing up and down. [ You’ve 
made a rhyme! Marian! You’ve made a rhyme! 
Now you must wish before you speak, and the 
wish will surely come true. 

Marian. [After thinking for a moment, with 
one finger against her lips.] I wish I could 
see a real live fairy. 

Harland. Pshaw! Girls are so silly, Why 
didn’t you wish for a million dollars? I would. 

Marian. Why don’t you? 

Harland. Because I never make any 
rhymes. I don’t know how. [ Swings the doll 
by its head.] 

Marian. Don’t, Harland, you’ll hurt her! 
[Harland throws the doll into its cradle, and 
Marian picks it up and kisses it, then puts it 
hack and covers it up, carefully.] 

Harland. Dolls are no fun. I’m going to 
have a dog. 

Marian. [Rocking her doll.] Pooh! Dogs 
go mad. 

Harland. [Seating himself astride a chair, 
where he can watch Marian.] I am going to 
have a wagon, too, and I’m going to have a dog 
big enough to draw me wherever I want to go. 

Marian. [Jumping up.] Will you take me, 
Harland? 


MARIAN’S WISH 


65 


Harland. Maybe; if there are no boys to 
take. [ Takes a top from his pocket , gets down 
on the floor and begins to spin it. Marian 
comes up to ivatch him.] 

Marian. You told a wrong story Harland. 
You said my wish would come true. 

Harland. It isn’t time yet. Fairies don’t 
come in a minute. I’ll bet I can make this top 
spin longer than you can. 

[ The door opens , and Hazel comes in, dressed 
to represent a fairy. Marian gets closer to 
Harland, and they take hold of hands and 
back away from Hazel as far as they can, 
as if afraid of her.] 

Hazel. Dear children. I have come to see 
what gift you’d like to have from me. One gift 
to each I’ll now bestow; so choose at once, for 
I must go. [Walks toward them, waving her 
wand. Harland comes forward a step or two 
and Marian keeps close behind him. ] 

Harland. If you please, Miss Fairy, I want a 
little brother to play'with. 

[Hazel turns and goes to the door, which she 
opens; then she leads in Pliny, who runs 
straight to Harland and takes his hand. ] 

Hazel. Here is your brother. Love him 
well or what will happen, none can tell. ’Tis 
very bad to have a brother, and then desert him 
for another. 

[Hazel waves her wand over Harland’s head, 
then points it toward the door, and Harland 


66 


MARIAN’S WISH 


and Pliny run out still holding hands. Ma= 
rian starts to follow them, then hesitates, 
comes hack to Hazel, and kneels before 
her.] 

Marian. If you please, dear Fairy, I want 
the nicest thing in the world to give to my 
mamma. 

Hazel. [ Taking hold o/Marian’s hand, helps 
her to her feet.] My child, your mother’s life 
has taught her there’s naught so nice as a good 
daughter. Be just as good as you can be, and 
she’ll be happy, as you’ll see. 

Marian. But if one girl is nice, don’t you 
think that two would be a great deal nicer? I 
think I’d like a little sister. 

Hazel. It is well said. My dear you may 
take her another girl this day. [Goes to the 
door and leads in Marie, who runs to Marian 
and kisses her.] 

Hazel. And now, dear children, if you’d 
know where fairies sleep, I’ll let you go and see 
me put myself to bed in a lovely rose with petals 
red. 

[They all take hold of hands and dance out 
of the room.] 


THE SICK DOLL 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Marjorie Gates. 

Mrs. Inez Brown. 

Dr. Olive. 


This play was written for three quite small 
girls, and may easily be learned in an afternoon 
for performance before the family on the even¬ 
ing of the same day. 

Plays ten minutes. 


[Enter Mrs. Marjorie Gates, carrying the sick 
doll wrapped in blankets and lying on a 
pillow.] 

Marjorie. I’m afraid she is a very sick baby. 
I do wish some one would come in. [Goes to 
cradle and lays the doll down very gently.] 
Hush baby! Hush! 

[ There is a knock at the door. Marjorie goes 
to open it, and sees Mrs. Inez Brown. ] 

67 





68 


THE SICK DOLL 


Inez. Good-morning, Mrs. Gates! 

Marjorie. Oh, Mrs. Brown, I am so glad to 
see you! Come right in, please. 

Inez. [Stepping inside the door.] Thanks; 
but I can’t stay long for I’ve got to give a 
lecture at our club, this afternoon. 

Marjorie. I do wish you’d look at my baby. 

Inez. [ Cheerfully .] What’s the matter with 
the baby? Is she sick? [ They both go to the 
cradle and bend over the doll. Inez puts her 
hand on the doll's head.] 

Marjorie. She cried all night. 

Inez. [ Feeling the dolVs pulse.'] She’s a 
very, very sick child. I think she has measles, 
scarlet fever, whooping-cough, and mumps. 

Marjorie. [ Catches doll up in her arms , sinks 
into the chair and begins to rock and cry. ] Oh, 
my poor baby is going to die! I just know she 
can’t live another year. 

Inez. Don’t be silly! Why don’t you do 
something for her? [ Heats a blanket and 
wraps it around the doll.] Here, give her to 
me. She’s more comfortable in bed. [ Takes 
the doll and puts her back in the cradle. J 

Marjorie. [Still crying.] I’ve always known 
something dreadful would happen to her. 

Inez. How silly these young mothers are! 
When you’ve raised ten children as I have, Mrs. 
Gates, you won’t spend your time crying over a 
little thing like this. 

Marjorie. [ Wiping her eyes.] If I had ten 
children, I wouldn’t mind losing a few of them. 

Inez. Well, we must have a doctor. Can you 
stay alone until I bring doctor Woodbridge? 


THE SICK DOLL 


09 


Marjorie. Yes, but oh, do hurry! 

Inez. [Going out door , puts her head in for 
a parting command .] Now, don’t take her out 
of that cradle, and do keep her covered up. 

[Marjorie rocks the cradle, tucks up the doll , 
gets a bottle of hot water for her feet, and 
binds a handkerchief around her (head. 
While she is busy, there is a rap on the door, 
and Inez and Olive enter without waiting for 
her to open the door.~\ 

Olive. Good*morning, Mrs. Gates. Mrs. 
Brown tells me you have a sick baby. 

Marjorie. [ Beginning to cry again.] Oh, 
doctor, I just know she’s going to die! 

Olive. Oh, I guess not. [ All three girls 
bend over the sick doll. ] 

Inez. Well, doctor, what do you think ails 
her? 

Olive. A dreadful case of membraneous 
croup. 

Marjorie. [Screams and sinks in a little 
heap on the floor.] Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Inez. [ Nodding her head.] I thought all 
the time that it was something like that. 

Olive. We must have an operation. 

Marjorie, [j Rocking back and forth on the 
floor.] It will kill her! 

Inez. Nonsense, she’ll hardly feel it. I’ve 
had some sort of an operation performed on 
nearly all of my children. 

Olive. [Doubtfully.] I’m not sure that I 
can save her, but I’ll do my best. While there’s 
life, there’s hope, you know. [ Opens medicine 


70 


THE SICK DOLL 


case, and takes out carving knife and fork, 
some bottles and napkins .] 

Marjorie. I can’t let you do it. 

Olive. [To Inez.] Put her out doors, then 
come back and help me. [Inez helps Marjorie 
up, and escorts her to the door.~\ 

Inez. [ To Olive.] Now, doctor, what do you 
want me to do? 

Olive. Hold the patient’s head. [Inez holds 
dolus head, and cries for the baby, when Olive 
pretends to cut its throat. Then it is carefully 
bandaged and tucked up. ] 

Olive. A most successful operation. 

Inez. Will she live? 

Olive. Live? Of course she will. 

Inez. Then I’ll call the mother. [Goes to 
door.] Mrs. Gates, it’s all over. 

Olive. . It’s all right, you mean. 

Marjorie. Is she alive? 

Olive. Alive and well. [Marjorie hurries to 
cradle. Inez follows. All bend over the doll, 
then turn, and taking hold of hands, bow to the 
audience. ] 

The three girls in chorus. Ladies and gen¬ 
tlemen, there is no longer a sick doll. 


THE QUARREL 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Bernice. Frances. 


This play will be found suitable for quite 
small children, and can easily be taught them 
by an older brother or sister. Children who 
own a set of dishes, little kindergarten chairs, 
and a table, can find a new interest in their pos¬ 
sessions by playing with them as suggested in 
the following dialogue. 

Plays eight minutes. 


[Enter Bernice, carrying a part of her little 
teaset. She places the dishes on a chair, 
while she pulls out the table and spreads a 
table-cloth upon it.] 

Bernice. [ Talking as she ivories.'] Of course 
I had to bring in the dishes before the table 
was ready for them! That is just like me! I 
always do things backwards when I am in a 
hurry. [ Places the dishes on the table, then 





72 


THE QUARREL 


stands back a little way to look at them.] They 
look pretty well! Sister Frances doesn’t have 
prettier dishes than mine, if she does have other 
things that are nicer. [ Goes out, returning 
with more dishes.] It seems to me it is time 
for her to be coming. 

[ There is a knock at the door, and Frances 
enters without waiting to have the door 
opened.] 


Frances. How do you do, to-day? [Bows .] 
Bernice. [Going to meet her.] I’m so glad 
you have come! Are you cold? 

Frances. Not very. I walked fast. 


[Bernice helps Frances take off her wraps, then 
gives her the rocking chair, after which she 
carries the wraps away, laying them on a 
chair at the farther end of the room.] 


Did you leave the little folks all 
Well, and in school. How is your 


Bernice. 

well? 

Frances. 

family? 

Bernice. Very well, thank you. They’ve all 
gone to town, to-day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, 
111 put dinner on the table. 

Frances. Of course I’ll excuse you. Don’t 
make company of me. 


l^rnice g° es out, returning quickly with plates 
°J While she is gone, Frances rocks 

and looks around the room, curiously.] 

Frances. [To audience .] I’m glad I have 
some things nicer than Bernice. 


THE QUARREL 


73 


Bernice. [Arranging dishes of food on the 
table .] This seems just like old times, doesn’t 

Frances. Yes, we’ll make believe we’re little 
girls playing together in mamma’s house. 

Bernice. Now, Frances, if you’ll sit here, 
please— 

Frances. Thank you. [ Takes the chair 
Bernice has drawn out for her, then Bernice 
sits opposite her at the table.'] 

Bernice. I’m going to help you to some of 
this meat, for I am sure you’ll like it. [Puts 
meat on the plate before her, then passes it to 
Frances, who gives her own plate in exchange.] 
Won’t you have some bread? [Passes bread, 
then pours the tea. ] 

Frances. [Tasting the meat.] How very 
nice this is! You always cook meat so much 
better than I do. 

Bernice. But I can’t make such good bread 
as yours. [Passes other dishes.] 

Frances. You always get your work done so 
quickly! My house is nearly always upset. 

Bernice. But your sewing is never behind, 
as mine is,—sometimes. 

Frances. Sometimes! [Laughs.] Oh, Ber¬ 
nice, did you ever have it done ahead of time? 

Bernice. [Holding her head very high.] If 
I were as poor a housekeeper as you are, I 
wouldn’t say a word. 

Frances. [ Rising. ] I can see that it is 
time for me to go. [ Gets wraps, and begins to 
put them on.] 

Bernice. [Rising.] And if you ever come 


74 


THE QUARREL 


again, do try and be polite. [Starts to help 
Frances put her wraps on, hut Frances jerks 
away from her.] 

Frances. [Going toward door .] Be polite! 
Oh, yes! I’ll copy you, dear. 

Bernice. [Following her. ] Really, you 
might do worse. 

[ Just as Frances starts to shut the door behind 
her, see looks hack, and sees Bernice brush¬ 
ing her hand across her eyes. She hurries 
hack, and throws both arms around Bernice, 
who returns the embrace.] 

Frances. What silly girls we are! 

Bernice. I didn’t mean a word of it. 

Frances. Neither did I. Won’t you come 
part way home with me? 

[They go out together .] 


THE 

SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 


Inez Brown. 

Hazel Hoyt. 
Bernice Woodward. 
Frances Woodward. 
Marie Hoyt. 


The Teacher. 

Harland Hoyt. 
Pliny Daggett. 
Rosalie Merriman. 
Dorothy Woodward. 
Marian Daggett. 


This play was written for a group of cousins 
composed of two boys and eight girls, and for 
an older child, who took the part of teacher. 
The teacher may be either a boy or a girl. 
Some of the children were quite small when the 
play was prepared and so their parts were made 
very easy. This will be appreciated in families 
where there are young children who are old 
enough to protest against being left out. If the 
play is to be given where there are not so many 
children, it will not be a difficult matter to leave 
out one or two parts entirely, or, some of the 
larger children may take two parts under one 
name. 


75 




76 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


Before beginning the play, the chairs must be 
arranged in one end of the room to resemble the 
seats in a school-room. A table and bell for the 
teacher must also be supplied. When the chil¬ 
dren have entered the room they must try to 
think and to do some of the many little things 
usually done by very mischievous pupils, such 
as throwing paper balls, playing with tiny dolls 
when the teacher is not looking, etc. They 
must be careful, however, not to make a com¬ 
motion when anything is being said that the 
audience ought to hear. 

Plays twenty-five minutes. 


[Enter Teacher, evidently in a great hurry . 
She looks at her watch, then hastily takes off 
her wraps and puts them away while she 
talks.] 

Teacher. How late it is! Ten minutes past 
one already. I do hope my pupils will not 
guess that I am tardy. They would never be 
on time again if they did. [Smooths her hair, 
then takes a hell from the table goes to the door 
and rings it .] Iam glad we are to have pieces 
to-day instead of the regular recitations. [ Pu- 
pils come in laughing and jostling one another .] 
There! There! not so much noise, if you 
please. There will be no time for play to-mor¬ 
row, if you are not good to-day. 

Inez. Teacher, Harland hit me. 

Harland. Didn’t, no such thing! Anyhow, 
she hit me first. 



THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


77 


Teacher. Harland, yon and Inez may stay 
after school tomight. We will have a talk about 
this hitting business. [Harland and Inez 
take seats and all the others follow, except 
Hazel and Pliny, who come in late;] 

Hazel. Teacher, Pliny kissed me. I don’t 
like it. 

Teacher. Pliny, why did you do that? 

Pliny. Because she dared me to. She said 
I dassent. 

Teacher. Hazel and Pliny may also remain 
after school to-night. I want it to be under¬ 
stood that there is to be no kissing in this 
school. [Hazel and Pliny take seats.] 

Rosalie. But I want to kiss Dorothy Wood¬ 
ward. 

Dorothy. And I want to kiss Rosalie Mer- 
riman. 

Teacher. Little girls may kiss each other, 
and so may little boys; but boys can’t kiss 
girls— 

Harland. I could ir it wasn’t against the 
rule. [ Pupils giggle and nudge one another .] 

Teacher. Silence! And girls can’t kiss 
boys. 

Marie. Can’t I kiss brother Harland? 

Teacher. Of course; the rule don’t hold 
with brothers and sisters. 

Marie. But I want to kiss Pliny, too. 

Teacher. Well, cousins don’t count. 

Pliny. If—if you please, I think I’d like to 
kiss Bernice once in a while. 

Bernice. My auntie is Pliny’s auntie, too. 
Of course we’re cousins— 


78 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


Pliny. And cousins don’t count. 

Teacher. We won’t talk about this any more 
at present. Children never seem to understand 
anything. 

Frances. [Holding up her hand.] Please 
may I pass the water? 

Teacher. No; you have not been in the 
house long enough to be thirsty. 

Frances. But I was thirsty when 1 came in. 

Dorothy. So was I. 

Rosalie. I’m thirsty, too. 

Teacher. It serves you all just right. I 
hope it will teach you to take a drink at the 
pump before you come in. 

Inez. We couldn’t. 

Teacher. Why not? 

Inez. I can’t tell, but we couldn’t. [ Winks 

at Harland.] 

Harland. Inez thinks I’m afraid. It’s be¬ 
cause I lost the dipper. 

Inez. I helped him lose it. We were play¬ 
ing in the brook, and it floated off. 

Teacher. Harland and Inez must stay after 
school to night. 

Harland. How can I stay twice? 

i a , loud whis Per •] Hush, Har- 

land! Well do two stays in one. f Both 
giggle.] 

Marian. [ Who has been bending over her 
slate.] Teacher, I can’t work this example 

Teacher. Read it aloud. 

Marian. If a dog eats five doughnuts in 
three minutes, how many apples can a horse eat 
in one minute? 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 79 

Teacher. Is that example in your book? 

Marian. No, Inez gave it to me. 

Teacher. You and Inez may remain after 
school to night. 

Inez. Why? Isn’t it a good example? 

Teacher. No, it is not. 

Inez. Then I’ll tell Uncle Frank not to give 
me another one. I’ll tell him you said so. 

Teacher. Tell him nothing of the sort. It 
is good enough for him. 

Harland. Uncle Frank ought to have just as 
good things as anyone else; just let me tell you 
that! 

Marian. I won’t go to school to you if you 
talk about my Uncle Frank. 

Inez. Nor I; folks, let’s all go home. [Inez 
leaves her seat, and the others follow her ex¬ 
ample ,.] 

Teacher. Don’t be silly! Sit down, and I’ll 
explain. [ Pupils resume their seafe.] You 
ought to know that what is good for grown 
folks is not always good for children. For in¬ 
stance, it is good for your Uncle Frank to shave 
his face; but would it be good for you? [Pu¬ 
pils feel their chins and laugh. ] 

Harland. Well, no, not just to-day. 

Hazel. It would never be very good for me. 

Teacher. Well, now you understand; Har- 
land need not work such examples until he is 
older, and Hazel need never work them unless 
she wants to. Do you see? 

Pupils. Yes! yes! it’s all right. 

Teacher. We will now begin the entertain¬ 
ment for the afternoon. I hope you have all 


80 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


come prepared. If yon like such exercises, we 
will have them every Friday afternoon, instead 
our regular exercises. 

Bernice. That will suit me. 

Pliny. Me too. 

[Teacher gets out a programme , and seats 
herself beside a table.] 

Teacher. We will now hear from Inez 
Brown. 

Inez. [Rising and bowing .] 

As I stood on the doorstep one morning in May, 

I noticed that Brave very quietly lay 
With his head on his paws. Now that isn’t the way 
He usually does when I want him to play. 

He looked up when I spoke. There were tears in his eyes. 

They made me quite sad, for Brave seldom cries. 

When I asked him what ailed him, he spoke in this wise: 

“Miss Inez,” he said, “is it true as I hear, 

That the baby’s a boy? It is? Oh, dear, dear! 

And now you are laughing. I feared that you would. 

But really, dear friend, I can’t see why you should. 

If you were a dog, you would learn very quick 
That girls are less apt to get angry and kick. 

They don’t hitch wagons to you, then get in and ride, 

And compel you to run till you ache in your side; 

Or play you’re a camel, putting humps on your back 
Composed of two cats tied up in a sack; 

Or get up a circus, with you for a horse, 

And go through their antics on your back, of course. 

I tell you most dogs feel more sorrow than joy, 

When told ’tis a fact that the baby’s a boy.” 

[Inez takes her seat. The boys hiss while the 
girls clap their hands. ] 

Teacher. Quiet! Be quiet, children. 

Harland. That piece Inez spoke is no good. 
Marian. It is good. It is fine. 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


81 


Teacher. Children, listen! If you are not 
quiet, I’ll keep everyone of you after school. 
[Children become very quiet .] We will now 
hear from Hazel Hoyt. 

Hazel. [Standing.] 

There was a little doggie, 

And he had a little tail, 

And a naughty boy tied on it 
A very large tin pail. 

Then the doggie ran so swiftly, 

In hopes the string would break, 

That he stretched out like a clothesline, 

And they killed him for a snake. 

[Hazel takes her seat , the pupils laugh and 
clap their hands , and the Teacher raps on the 
table for order.] 

Teacher. Harland Hoyt comes next on the 
list. 

Harland. [Standing.] 

Once a little cat said, “Mew, mew! Mew, mew! 

I don’t know what in the world to do, 

For the mice are so spry, that, though hard I may try, 
Away they will run, and I cannot get one. 

And while I was sleeping so sweetly, to-day, 

I was wakened by hearing the housekeeper say, 

That that lazy, good-for-nothing old cat 
Has never yet caught a mouse or a rat, 

And had better be put where the water was deep. 

So now I must hunt when I’d much rather sleep. 

Cats are like girls, as every one knows, 

They won’t work till they must for food or for clothes. 

[Harland nods triumphantly to Inez as he takes 
his seat, the girls hiss and Pliny claps his 
hands loudly.'] 

Marian. Oh, Harland, you made the last of 


82 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


that up right out of your own head. I know 
your piece and that wasn’t in it 

Harland. I got ahead of Inez anyhow. 

Inez. There is another day coming 
Teacher. [Rapping on her desk with her 
ruler.] Will—you—keep—quiet? We will 

now hear from Pliny Daggett. 

Pliny. [Standing.] 

“Oh, mamma dear,” a little pup said 
“I had such a dream, last night, in bed, 

Perhaps you can tell me what it means 

To dream of a long row of sausage machines.” 

The mother replied, leaning gainst a log, 

“You have dreamed of the final end of dog.” 

[Pliny takes his seat, while all the children 
laugh and clap their hands.] 

Frances. I won’t eat any more sausage. 
Teacher. Hush! We will now hear from 
Bernice Woodward. 

Bernice. [Standing. ] 

I suppose everybody gets punished 
Once in a while; don’t you? 

Frances and I get it seldom, 

But there are times when we do. 

You see, when mamma is reading, 

And sister and I are not good, 

She makes us stand up beside her, 

Real still, just like two sticks of wood, 

And we stand very still for a moment, 

But it seems like an hour and a half; 

Then sister hits me, and I giggle, 

And I pinch her, then I laugh. 

I don’t know what is the reason 

That we can’t keep still when we try, 

Or why mamma don’t think we’er punished 
Until we begin to cry. 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


83 


[Bernice takes her seat.'] 

Harland. It is because you are not sorry un 
til you are ready to cry. 

Bernice. Don’t you suppose I know that? 
I had to say what was in the verse, you know. 

Teacher. There, there, children, no quarrel¬ 
ing. Bernice, you spoke your piece very nicely, 
indeed. We will next have one from Frances 
Woodward. 

Frances, f Standing.] 

Bernice spoke a piece for us both, to-day 
And so, dear friends, I will only say 
That the way to grow better is just to be good. 

E know, for I’ve always behaved as I should. 

[Frances turns and hows to the pupils before 
taking her seat.] 

Pupils. [ In chorus.] Oh, hear her! Hear 
her! She isn’t a bit better than we are. 

Teacher. Less noise. If you are not quiet, 
instantly, you must all stay after school. Marie 
Hoyt will now speak her piece. 

Marie. [ Standing ,] 

Once two little mice saw a great big rat. 

Said one little tnouse, “ I wonder what’s that.” 

Said t’other little mouse, “You really ought to know; 
That’s a great giant mouse, who can kill us with a 
blow.” 

[Marie takes her seat , and the children clap 
their hands.] 

Teacher. That was very well done for so lit¬ 
tle a girl. I shouldn’t be surprised if the 
youngest ones did the best, taking every- 


84 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 


thing into consideration. Let ns try another of 
our small class. We will now hear from Rosalie 
Merriman. 

Rosalie. [Standing.] 

Once, two little birdies wanted to play, 

But they couldn’t, because it rained all day. 

[Rosalie runs to Marian, hiding her face on 
Marian’s shoulder , while the others cheer 
her.] 

Teacher. Very good, Rosalie. We will hear 
from Dorothy Woodward, next. 

Dorothy. [ Standing. ] 

I can’t speak pieces. I’m too small, 

And so, I will not try at all. 

But this I’ll say before I’m done, 

I love you, cousins, every one. 

[Dorothy runs to Inez, while the children cheer 
her.~\ 

Teacher. For a little girl who could not 
speak at all, I think you did very nicely, indeed. 
We will now hear what Marian Daggett has to 
say. 

Marian. [ Standing. ] 

Little girls and little boys, 

Full of mischief, fun, and noise, 

Tell me, quickly, tell me true, 

If through all the day you do 
Anything to help your mother. 

Do you care for baby brother? 

Do you help to sweep the floors? 

Do you carry slops out doors? 

Do you set and clear the table, 

Just as well as you are able? 

Do you bring in wood and water? 


THE SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENT 85 

Do you, little son and daughter? 

Mother works so hard for you, 

That you should really try to do 
Something for her every day, 

And not spend all your time in play. 

[Marian takes her seat while the children 
applaud. ] 

Teacher. [ Rising .] You have done nicely, 
children, and I am much pleased with you. In¬ 
deed, I am so well pleased that I have decided 
to forgive you all, and not keep anyone after 
school tomight. 

[Taps the hell and the children rise. Taps it 
again, and they march out , cheering, upon 
Harland’s suggestion .] 

Harland. Three cheers for the teacher. 

[All cheer .] 

Teacher. [Getting her wraps.'] Oh, dear, I 
believe I was never so tired in my life. It is 
such hard work teaching school. I presume 
there are people who would watch me, and 
think it was no work at all, but I just wish 
they’d try it once. [Puts on her wraps and 
goes to the door, turning to say to the audi¬ 
ence.] If we have not done well, it is not be¬ 
cause we have not tried. 



















































A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Miss Muffett. Jack Spratt. 

Mrs. Jack Spratt. King Cole. 


An illustrated copy of The Mother Goose 
Melodies will give the little folks suggestions 
as to the dress required to properly personate 
the characters called for. For instance, Old 
King Cole should wear a small pillow over his 
stomach to make him fat and jolly in appear¬ 
ance. He ought, also, to have a white mus¬ 
tache curled up at the corners, and his hair 
should be well powdered. Jack Spratt should 
be tall, thin and melancholy in appearance. 
If he can get an okbfashioned coat that be¬ 
longed to his grandfather, one so long that the 
tails nearly touch the floor, he will do nicely 
as to costume. Mrs. Jack Spratt should also be 
dressed to appear very fat, while the character of 
Miss Muffett should be taken by a little girl, 
considerably smaller than the other children. 

Plays twenty minutes. 


[Enter Miss Muffett with a howl of popcorn 
and milk to represent a dish of curds and 





88 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


whey. She walks slowly toward the centre of 
the room, where she seats herself on one end 
of a soap box, that has been covered with a 
quilt to look like a low couch, and at once 
begins eating. ] 

Miss Muffett. Such a day as this has been! 
Perfectly dreadful! It really has robbed me 
of my appetite. [Eats very fast.] I can 
hardly swallow these curds; they almost choke 
me [Eats the last spoonful of popcorn, then 
lifts the bowl to her lips and drinks the milk.] 
There! I did manage to eat it all, but I really 
thought it would kill me. [Tries to get another 
drop of milk from the bowl.] I never have an 
appetite when I am worried. [Licks her 
spoon.] And this has been such a dreadful 
day. [Tries once more to get a little milk from 
the bowl.] 

[Enter Jack Spratt, who walks in slowly, hold¬ 
ing his handkerchief before his eyes as if 
crying. He does not appear to see Miss 
Muffett, even when he seats himself on the 
other end of the box. Miss Muffett catches 
sight of him and jumps up, screaming. Jack 
Spratt looks at her, jumps up, and they stand 
facing each other.] 

Jack Spratt. Great Scott! What’s the mat- 
ter? Is it you Miss Muffett? Did you scream? 
It so, why? If not, what did you do? 

Miss Muffett. [ With excitement.] Oh, Mr. 
bpratt! Oh, I’m afraid I did scream. Oh 
how you did frighten me! Oh! Oh! I don’t 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 89 

know why I say oh so many times. 

Jack Spratt. [ Gravely .] It is because you 
have been making buttonholes. Miss Muffett, 
why did you scream? 

Miss Muffett. Why? Oh, I—I—I thought 
you were a horrid spider. 

Jack Spratt. [Angrily.] Indeed! Much 
obliged, I’m sure. 

Miss Muffett. [Holds out her hands to Jack 
as he turns away.] Don’t be angry. You 
know I didn’t say it because you are so pain¬ 
fully thin. [Jack walks faster toward the 
door.] Please Mr. Spratt! Don’t mind what 
I say. I’m not myself. I have been nervous 
ever since that horrid, great spider— [Begins to 
cry aloud.] 

Jack Spratt. [Stops with his hand on the door 
knob, then turns and comes toward her.] Of 
course! I had forgotten about that spider. I 
remember how dreadfully it frightened you. 

Miss Muffett. [Still sobbing.] And you al¬ 
ways think everyone is trying to hurt your feel¬ 
ings. I’ve got feelings, too. 

Jack Spratt. To tell the truth, I’ve had a 
very trying day, and my nerves are completely 
worn out. Please be seated and let me tell you 
about it. [ They sit together on the box.] 

Miss Muffett. It will do you good to tell 
some one. It always helps me to tell about that 
spider, who sat down beside her. 

Jack Spratt. You know my wife has been 
trying out lard for the last three days, and she 
is determined that none of the scraps shall be 
wasted— 


90 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


Miss Muffett. Well, she can eat them, can’t 
she? She likes fat meat. 

Jack Spratt. She can’t very well eat them 
all, and she won’t cook any other meat until 
they are gone. Now, I’m actually suffering 
for a little lean meat. I am weak and empty 
and nervous and—oh, dear, I’m just all to pieces. 

Miss Muffett. [Jumps up.] Mr. Jack 
Spratt, I have a glorious idea! Mother Hub¬ 
bard’s dog— 

Jack Spratt. [ Jumps up.] Yes, yes! The 

dog.. 

Miss Muffett. [Placing her hands to her 
Zips.] Hush! Not a word. Trust me! I’ll 
manage it. [ Hurries out of the room. Jack 
throws himself on the box and falls asleep. ] 

[Enter Mrs. Spratt, running. She has an 

apron thrown over her head.] 

Mrs. Spratt. [Calling.] Jack! Jack Spratt! 
Oh, where are you! There he is, asleep, as usual. 
[Hastens to Jack and begins to shake him. ] 
Wake up, Jack. Something dreadful has hap¬ 
pened ! 

Jack Spratt. [Rubs his eyes sleepily.] Eh? 
What did you say ? 

Mrs. Spratt. Your nephew has broken his 
crown. Your nephew, Jack! The one who is 
named for you. 

Jack Spratt. [Sitting up.] Jack broke his 
crown! 

Mrs. Spratt. He went with Jill to get a pail 
of water and fell down— 

Jack Spratt. [Jumping up excitedly.] Where 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 91 

is he? Where is he? Take me to him. [Starts 
toward the door.] 

Mrs. Spratt. [Following Jack and talking, 
excitedly .] Jack fell down and broke his 
crown, and Jill came tumbling after, and no 
one knows how badly she’s hurt. 

Jack Spratt. [Slops suddenly, and puts his 
hands to his ears as if listening. Mrs. Spratt 
humps up against him.] What is that? Do 
I hear the bell? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Giving Jack a push.] Go on. 
Yes, Nell is ringing the bell. Jane told her to. 

Jack Spratt. Then Jack and Jill are dying. 
[ They both disappear through the door. ] 

[Enter Miss Muffett.] 

MissMuffett. Jack! Oh, Jack Spratt! I’ve 
arranged it! Mother Hubbard’s dog hasn’t had 
dyspepsia for a week, and— [Looks closely at 
the box, as if Jack might he concealed near it.] 
Why, where is Jack Spratt? Is he hiding? 
[Looks behind the chairs .] He’s smart to run 
away when I agreed to help him get rid of that 
fat meat. [ Hearty laughter is heard outside 
the door.] Who is that? The voice sounds 
familiar. [ The door opens slowly, and a 
laughing, red face appears.] Oh, it is Old 
King Cole. 

King Cole. [Coming into the room.] Tut, 
tut, my dear, don’t you call me old. A fellow 
can’t be older than his heart is. [Dances up 
to the centre of room, and puts his arms a- 
round Miss Muffett.] Come on, my dear, I’m 
dying to dance. 


92 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


Miss Muffett. [Breaking away.] But I 
don’t know how to dance, and if I did, I 
wouldn’t— 

King Cole. [Laughing.] Oh, yes you 
would, my dear! You’d dance with me in a 
minute. All the girls like to dance with me. 
[Pwfs his hands to his mouth, and makes a 
sound as if blowing a horn.] Hello! Hello! 
Hello! Music! Music! Fiddlers wanted! [Enter 
musician.] 

[The boy who takes the part of Jack Spratt can 
also take that of the musician. Anything in 
the way of music can be brought in , from a 
comb with a paper over it, to a violin. Mu¬ 
sician plays a dance tune.] 

King Cole. See here, Miss Muffett. This is 
the way to do it. [Dances a minute or two, 
then holds out his hands to Miss Muffett.] 
Will you dance with me? 

Miss Muffett. [Holds out her hands , as if 
tempted to dance mith him, then draws them 
back quickly, clasps them behind her, and 
shakes her head decidedly.] No, King Cole, I 
can’t dance to=day. 

King Cole. Cannot dance to-day? I should 
like to know w T hy not. 

Miss Muffett. Because I’m worried. [Begins 
walking the floor with her head bent and a very 
troubled expression in her face.] I was never 
so worried in all my life. 

King Cole. [ Walks backward just in front 
of her, so as to look into her face .] Worried? 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 93 

What worries you? What right have you to 
worry? 

Miss Muffett. I have just given all of Mrs. 
Spratt’s pork scraps to Mother Hubbard’s dog. 
King Cole. [Catching Miss Muffett by the 

shoulder, speaks with excitement.] You have! 
Were there many of them? Speak, girl. Quick, 
as you value your life. 

Miss Muffett. Don’t take my head off. What 
a fuss you make! There were only a bushel of 
them. 

King Cole. A bushel! The dog will kill 
himself. He has had nothing to eat for a week! 
Girl, what have you done! [ Shakes Miss 
Muffett.] The dog will die of indigestion,—un¬ 
less I can reduce those scraps. [ Rushes wildly 
from room.] 

Miss Muffett. [Feels of her shoulders, then 
of her head and neck to see that she has not 
been shaken to pieces, then seats herself on the 
box and begins to cry.'] Oh dear, I’m always in 
trouble! [ Sobs aloud.] I try to help every¬ 
body, [$o&s.] yet everything I do is wrong. 
[Softs.] I don’t see as it would make much dif¬ 
ference if the old dog did die! 

[Enter Jack Spratt, with a bag slung across 
his shoulder. He is hurrying across the stage, 
when Miss Muffett accosts him.] 

Miss Muffett. [Looking up, dries her eyes 
on her dress skirt.] Jack Spratt! [Calling] 
Oh, Jack Spratt, where are you going? 

Jack Spratt. [ Coming toward her, holds one 


94 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


finger to his lips, and looks around stealthily .] 
Hush! not a word! As you value your life 
never let it be known that you have seen me 
here. 

Miss Muffet. But why? [Jack turns to go 
away. ] Hold on Jack Spratt. What have you 
in that bag? 

Jack Spratt. Hush! Therein lies the secret. 
[In a loud whisper. ] It is Mother Hubbard’s 
dog. They would kill you if they knew. I’ll 
save you, if I can 

Miss Muffet. [In a loud whisper.1 Is he 
dead? ^ J 

Jack Spratt. Dead as a door nail. 

Miss Muffett. Did the scraps kill him? 

Jack Spratt. [Solemnly.'] The scraps killed 
him. Never let anyone know you saw me. 
[Passes out through a different door from that 
he entered. 

Miss Muffett. [To audience.] Isn’t that 
just my luck! What do you suppose will hap¬ 
pen next? Could I be arrested if it were found 
out? Could I be hung for murder? 

[Enter Mrs. Spratt, crying ] 

Miss Muffett. [ Going to meet her , puts one 
arm about her, and they walk slowly toward 
the centre of the room as they talk.] Dear Mrs 
Spratt, what is the matter? Don’t cry; please 
don’t. Can’t you tell me what grieves you? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Sobbing.] Have you, oh, 
have you seen my dear husband? 

Miss Muffett. [Winking and nodding at 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 95 

audience .] My dear madam, why should you 
think I have seen your dear husband? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Crossly.] I don’t think. I 
merely asked a question. 

Miss Muffett. [Suavely.] It was a very 
foolish question. 

Mrs. Spratt. [Stops suddenly and glares at 
Miss Muffett suspiciously.] It seems to me 
you have a queer way of answering a woman 
who is old enough to be your mother. [ Begins 
to talk very loudly.] Now, Miss Impertinence, 
what I want to know is this. Have you seen 
Jack Spratt? Yes or no? 

Miss Muffett. [ Also talking very loudly .] 
No, I have not seen Jack Spratt. [To au¬ 
dience.] I’m sorry, but I had to lie about it. 

Mrs. Spratt. [Begins crying again.] Oh, 
dear! Oh, dear! Jack and Jill are dying, and 
now my husband is going to be arrested— 

Miss Muffett. Arrested! What for? 

Mrs. Spratt. For murdering Mother Hub¬ 
bard’s dog. 

Miss Muffett. But he didn’t do it. 

Mrs. Spratt. Of course he didn’t; but who 
will believe that? 

Miss Muffett. Who says he did it? 

Mrs. Spratt. Tommy Tucker, Humpty 
Dumpty, Tom the Piper’s Son, Jack Horner 
and oh, ever so many! They say he was seen 
putting the dead dog into a bag. 

Miss Muffett. That is no sign he killed it. 

Mrs. Spratt. Of course it isn’t. Do you 
know who killed it? 

Miss Muffett. Why should I know? 


96 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


Mrs. Spratt. [ Loudly .] Do—you—know— 
who—killed—that—dog ? 

Miss Muffett. [ Loudly .] I—do—not— 
know —who—killed—that—dog [ To audience. ] 
Another lie, but I had to do it? 

Mrs. Spratt. [ Tragically.] Girl, let me tell 
you this: Jack Spratt did not kill that dog! 
He never had spunk enough to kill anything. 
A man who never eats anything but lean meat 
never had spunk enough to kill anything. If 
he put the dog into a bag, it was because he 
wished to shield some one else. Girl, listen to 
what I say. I’ll hunt this wide world over, but 
I’ll find the real criminal before I die. [Goes 
off ihe stage in the same direction taken by 
Jack.] 

Miss Muffett. [To audience.] Now, I am 
in a pickle. If I say I did it, I’ll be arrested; 
if I keep still, they’ll arrest Jack Spratt. Now, 
the question is, which of us is of the most use 
to the world at large. No, that is not the ques¬ 
tion. It is this: What right have I to suffer 
for Jack Spratt? I did it to help him. Why 
shouldn’t he suffer instead of me? I didn’t care 
about those scraps. I didn’t have to eat them. 
Jack said he should die if he didn’t have lean 
meat, and he couldn’t have lean meat un¬ 
til those scraps were gone. If I had not 
interfered, he would likely have been dead 
by this time, and he should thank me for giv¬ 
ing him so much longer life. On the whole, I 
think I shall keep still. 

[Enter Mrs. Spratt running.] 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


97 


Mrs. Spratt. They've got him! They’ve 
got him! They caught him burying the dog. 
They are taking him to jail, now. [ Wrings her 
hands.] Oh, my poor Jack! My poor Jack! 
How I wish I had never tried to make him eat 
that meat. [ Falls upon the box and looks at 
the audience mournfully .] If he is hung there 
will be no one left to eat the bits of lean in the 
meat I cook. There is always a little lean in 
every piece. [Bocks her body to and fro, 
moaning dismally, and every moment or two 
wiping a tear from her cheeks.] 

Miss Muffett. [ Who has been looking first 
at Mrs. Spratt then at the audience.] I’m sorry 
for you. [ To audience.] But I don’t see how 
I can help her and be just to myself. 

[Enter King Cole, running and puffing.] 

King Cole. Where is she? Where is Mrs. 
Spratt? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Jumping up,~\ Here I am. 

King Cole. Where did Jack Spratt bury that 
dog? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Angrily.] That is none of 
your business. 

King Cole. It is my business, and yours, too. 
Listen! If we can try out oil from a dog that 
died of eating fat meat, we can cure Jack and 
Jill! 

Miss Muffett and Mrs. Spratt. Cure Jack 
and Jill! 

King Cole. [Dancing around excitedly.] 
Yes! Yes! Where is that dog? 

Miss Muffett. [Dancing around excitedly.] 


98 A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 

Yes! Yes! Where did he bury the dog? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Dancing around excitedly.] 
I don’t know! Why don’t you ask him? 

King Cole. The jailer won’t let me speak to 
him, yet I might save his life. 

Miss Muffett. [Catching hold of King 

Cole’s arm.] How? How? 

Mrs. Spratt. [Catching hold of his other 
arm.] Save him! Oh, save him, I pray you! 

King Cole. [ Breaking loose from Miss Muf= 
fett.] Mrs. Spratt, come with me. [They run 
out of the room together.] 

Miss Muffett. [To audience.'] I wonder 
how it will all end. How does this new move 
affect me? If the dog is found and fried into 
oil, and if the oil saves Jack and Jill, then, by 
killing the dog, I really save two human lives. 
W T hat a noble girl I am! [She is silent for a 
moment.] I shall have saved two lives, but no 
one can ever know it, for everyone will think 
Jack Spratt did it! That’s what I get for keep¬ 
ing still. 

[Enter Jack Spratt, Mrs Spratt, and King 

Cole, arm in arm, and all laughing and talk¬ 
ing together as if very happy.] 

King Cole. Hurrah! Jack and Jill are well, 
and everybody is happy. 

Mrs. Spratt. That husband of mine did kill 
the old dog, after all, and the mayor of this city 
has given him a hundred dollars for it. 

Miss Muffet. One hundred dollars! What 
for? 

Mrs. Spratt. Why, for killing the dog. The 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


99 


mayor wanted him killed. It is like getting a 
hundred dollars for our pork scraps. 

King Cole. And the relatives of Jack and 
Jill gave him another hundred. 

Jack Spratt. [ Rubbing his right arm.] And 
everyone wants to shake hands with me. 

King Cole. Don’t rub your arm. Think how 
you’d feel if your neck had been broken. All’s 
well that ends well, old boy. 

Mrs. Spratt. Yes, all’s well that ends well. 
Come, let us celebrate. Three pounds of lean 
meat for Spratt, three pounds of fat for me! 
And you, King Cole? 

King Cole. My pipe, please, with plenty of 
good tobac—no cubebs, and my bowl filled with 
—with lemonade. 

Mrs. Spratt. And you, Miss Muffet? I 
stand treat for all, you know. 

Jack Spratt, You stand treat, Mrs. Spratt? 

Mrs. Spratt. What’s yours, is mine, you 
know. 

Jack Spratt. But it—ahem—isn’t mine. I 
did not kill— 

Mrs. Spratt. [Sternly and shaking her fist 
in his face.] Yes you did. Don’t you dare to 
say you did not. [Mrs. Spratt and King Cole 
drag Jack Spratt out of the room.] 

Miss Muffet. [Looking after them.] I 
seemed to have missed considerable money, but 
I don’t know as I care. Poor Jack Spratt! 
Much good it will do him! Well, I guess I’ll 
see how it ends. I might as well have my share 
of that treat. [She goes toward the door through 
which the others have retreated. Just before 


100 


A MOTHER GOOSE COMEDY 


closing the door behind her , she puts her head 
into the room for a parting word with the audi¬ 
ence.] 

Miss Muffett. [To audience.] They say all 
is well that ends well; but the question is, has 
this ended well? 


14 


THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


The Midway 

Burlesque ehtertainment, based on the famous Midway 
Plaisance of the World’s Columbian Exposition. Full direc¬ 
tions for producing- and conducting- it upon the most ex¬ 
tensive plan or on a limited scale. Following- are some 
of the main features: Beauty Show, Streets of Cairo, Hagen- 
beck’s Trained Animals, Javanese Village, Old Vienna, 
Casino, Japanese Bazar, Ferris Wheel, Samoan Village, Blar¬ 
ney Castle, Art Gallery, Turkish Theatre, Esquimaux Village, 
etc. This entertainment is new, good and unique. Nothing 
like it has ever been presented which can make more money 
for the work. Price, 50 cents. 

Socials 

By Effie W. Merriman. 

There has long been a demand from societies, clubs, 
benevolent associations and other organizations desiring 
to raise money, for novelties in entertainments. This book 
supplies this want. More than a score of amusing socials 
and other entertainments are described, and every society 
and club will find some suited to its purposes. Every family 
should have one. With this book as a guide, it would be 
possible to have a different entertainment every week dur¬ 
ing the winter. Among the entertainments described are 
the following: C Social, A Crazy Social, The Holidays, 
The Week, Pink Tea, Brown Tea, etc., Phantom Social, Moth¬ 
er Goose Social, Old Grimes’ Plaster O’Paris Figures, The 
Authors’ Social, Quaker Social, Toyland Social, A Dickens’ 
Social, Mum Social, Eaw Social, Fashion Social, Conundrum 
Social, Popcorn Social, Leaf Social, Pallette Social, Puzzle 
Social, Maud Muller Burlesque, etc. Price, in limp cloth cov¬ 
ers, 50 cents. 

The Art of Acting 

By Sir Henry Irving. 

This well-known address to the students of Harvard Univer¬ 
sity, now reprinted with the express permission of Sir Henry, 
called forth extended comment and universal approbation. It 
is believed to be the best brief exposition of the actor’s art—the 
art of which Sir Henry is the most eminent representative in 
the world. Every person interested in the stage should read 
this little book. To the actor and amateur it is indispensable. 
Price, 25 cents. 




THE DRAMATIC PCBLISHINQ COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


is 


Curtain Lifted 

Or, The Order of the Sons of Mars. 

Burlesque initiation ceremony, by Frank F. Hiland. For 
gentlemen. Ten speaking characters and from ten to fifty 
members of the lodge. Scene, a lodge room. Costumes, gro¬ 
tesque. Requires an entire evening. The book gives full de¬ 
tails for costumes and production. The latter is elaborate in 
salutes and other formalities. Grand Hinkajink has the most 
prominent part, but Inkslinger, Boodleholder, Royal Butcher, 
Worthy Slush and William Green are important. This is the 
best imtiation of Masonic, Odd Fellows and other secret so¬ 
cieties’ initiations. Price, 25 cents. 


Parson Poor’s Donation Party 

Burlesque entertainment in two scenes, by M. H. Jaquith 
author of “Deestrick Skule,” etc. Three male, eight female 
characters. Two simple interior scenes. Plays one hour 
Very easy to get up, costumes being as old-fashioned as possi’ 
ble, but need not be consistent. Very funny and perfectly in¬ 
offensive for church performance. May be played by young 
people, but with even greater comic effect by grown ladies and 
gentlemen. Price, 25 cents. 


Ma Dusenberry and Her Gearls 

Humorous en^rteinm 6 .! 1 , arranged by M. H. Jaquith, author 
of Deestnct Skule, etc. First and second singing “towers” 
m the latter, father goes along. Any number of young- ladies 
may take part, but seven are necessary. Costumes are made 
as old-fashioned and amusing as possible, and while g-ood 
voices are not necessary, ability to carry a tune is demanded. 
Recitations, songs and even character dances may be intro- 
nf himt * Iv0cal taient of all kinds can thus all be 
“tparU” • S wu ry e ? cept a sta ff e is required, and the 

1 « i S ^ the orchestra - Societies and clubs of ladies 

cannot find a better money-maker. Price, 25 cents. 





16 


THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


The “Deestrick Skule” of Fifty 
Years Ago 

By Mr. M. H. Jaquith. 

Fifteen to fifty people are required to give this entertain¬ 
ment. Old-fashioned costumes of fifty years ago are worn, 
grown men and women dressing as the boys and girls of that 
time in America. The book gives full suggestions for the 
costumes. It contains questions and answers for the classes, 
“compositions” and “pieces” for the entertainment and a 
parting poetical “trib-ute” from the “ma” of two pairs of 
twins. This is the strongest burlesque entertainment in use 
for societies and clubs, and is always successful when given. 
The most popular entertainment ever published. Price, SO cents. 


“Exerbition” of the Deestrick Skule 
of Fifty Years Ago 

By Mrs. M. H. Jaquith. 

The “Deestrick Skule” has given the public the purest fun 
and made the most money for charity of any known entertain¬ 
ment. The “Exerbition,” which we this season published for 
the first time, is just as amusing. The “las’ day” of every 
well-conducted “skule” was always given to the “Exerbition,” 
and in it the same scholars are brought in again who were so 
well-known in the “Deestrick Skule.” The day is divided into 
the forenoon session, the noon hour and the afternoon speakin*, 
with the visit of the “Skule Committee.” Price, 50 cents. 


Barberine and Other Comedies 

By Alfred de Musset. 

“The grace and delicacy of his remarkable dramas, the in¬ 
tensity with which the story is adapted to the moral, the abund¬ 
ant wit which illustrates and pervades them, makes them 
unique in literature .”—George Saintsbury. 

“Strange, fastastic, exquisite little comedies ."-Henry James . 

16 mo., cloth, gilt top, $1.25. 





9 


THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


The American Amateur Drama. 


A collection of new copyrighted plays, suitable'for amateur and professional 
performances. The acting is not especially difficult, and the scenery can be 
easily managed. While full of action, these plays are not boisterous, but are 
refined and elevated in tone. They are bright, interesting and contain not a dull 
line. Before deciding on a drama for amateur performance, read these plays. 

Aroused at Last. Comedy in one act, by Mary Kyle 
Dallas. Four male, four female characters. Plays about forty 
minutes. One interior parlor scene. Costumes of to-day; 
scene, New York City. A play full of brisk but refined action, 
lively dialogue, and the comedy possibilities are unlimited. Mr. 
and Mrs. Pondicherry are a successful business man and his 
fond wife. Mr. and Mrs. Vandernoodle, a young old Knicker¬ 
bocker and his bride. Miss and Mr. Wiggins, a spinster from 
Toadfish Point and her brother, Celeste, a breezy French 
maid and a young man waiter complete a fine cast of characters. 
Price, IS cents. 

Bloomer Girls, or, Courtship in the Twentieth 
Century. Satirical comedy inoneact,by John A. Fraser, Jr., 
author “Noble Outcast,” “Modern Ananias,” “A Cheerful 
Liar,” etc. One male, three female characters. One garden 
scene, which may be changed to an interior if desired. Plays 
two hours. Two young women in handsome bloomer costumes, 
one elderly lady in dark dress and a very effiminately attired 
young man compose the cast of characters. The dialogue is 
written in Mr. Fraser’s best style—bright and refined, while 
at the same time it hits the fad hard. Price, 15 cents. 

Bold Stratagem. Comedy in three acts, by Marsden 
Brown. Four male, three female characters; costumes mod¬ 
ern; one exterior, two interior scenes. Plays forty-five min¬ 
utes. This sparkling comedy is bright and witty, yet pure in 
tone, having no elaborate costumes or difficult scenery. Ama¬ 
teurs will find it just what they want. Every character good. 
Every situation telling. Price, 15 cents. 

Burglars, Comedy in one act, by Robert Julian, author 
of “Will You Marry Me?” Two male, two female characters. 
A parlor scene. Plays fifteen minutes. Costumes are suitable 
for one lady and one gentleman in the fashion of to-day, for a 
housemaid’s pretty dress and a young dandy darkey. The 
cast includes Mrs. Greene, afraid of burglars; her husband, 
brave when there is no danger; Kitty, afraid of no one, and 
Toby, a darkey, who is hired to catch burglars. The situations 
are new, and will keep the audience roaring from the entrance 
of Toby to the end. Price, 15 cents. 




3 


the DRA M ATIC PUBLISH ING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 

Cheerful Liar. Farcical comedy in three acts, by John 
A. Fraser, Jr., author of “Modern Ananias,” “Noble Outcast,” 

Merry Cobbler,” etc. Five male, three female characters. 
Plays three hours. Three interior scenes, all easily arranged. 
Costumes of the day. A shrieking farcical comedy, full of “go” 
and new situations. Unlike most light pieces, this one has a 
most capital plot, full of entanglements. It is a comedy in 
which any number of specialties may be introduced, although 
it was played on the professional stage a long season without 
any. Flora, Randolph, Guy, Hussel and Mrs. Sweetlove may 
all sing and dance with advantage. Judge Hussel is a great 
character part. The audacity as well as cheerfulness with 
which he prevaricates invariably “brings down the house.” In 
the last act where Flora dons a boy’s costume and the Judge 
is dressed to captivate, the stage presents one of the strongest 
comedy scenes that has ever been suggested. The book of 
the play gives the very full stage directions for crosses, en¬ 
trances, exits, etc., for which Mr. Fraser’s plays are noted. 
While prepared for amateurs in details, professional com¬ 
panies find this play a good one for the box office as well as 
an artistic favorite. Price, 25 cents. 

Delicate Question. Comedy drama in four acts, by 
John A. Fraser, Jr., author of “Modern Ananias,” “Noble 
Outcast,” etc. Nine male, three female characters. One exte¬ 
rior, two interior scenes. Modern costumes. Plays two hours. 
If a play presenting an accurate picture of life in the rura. 
districts is required, in which every character has been faith¬ 
fully studied from life, nothing better for the use of amateurs 
than “A Delicate Question” can be recommended. The story 
is utterly unlike that of any other play, and deals with the 
saloon, which it handles without gloves and at the same time 
without a single line of sermonizing. What “Ten Nights in a 
Barroom” was to the public of a past generation, “A Delicate 
Question” is destined to be to the present, although it is far 
from being exactly what is known as a “temperance play.” 
The plot is intensely interesting, the pathetic scenes full of 
beauty, because they are mental photographs from nature, and 
the comedy is simply uproariously funny. The parts, very 
equally balanced. The scenic effects are quite simple, and by 
a little ingenuity the entire piece may be played in a kitchen 
scene. The climaxes are all as novel as they are effective and 
the dialogue is as natural as if the characters were all real 
people. Price, 25 cents. 

Food for Powder. Vaudeville in two acts, by R. Andre, 
author of “A Handsome Cap,” “Minette’s Birthday,” etc. 
Three male, two female characters. One interior scene. Plays 
forty minutes. Costumes, French, of the time of Napoleon I. 
This dainty and refined play is full of pretty songs set to famil¬ 
iar airs, and specialty dances may be introduced. For profes¬ 
sional or amateur vaudeville evenings, this will be found just 
t mtzg the short drama which ^should aiways norm on* 
hi the features. Price, 15 cents. 





THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


* 

Handsome Cap. Comic operetta in one act, by R. An¬ 
dre, author of “Food for Powder,” “Minette’s Birthday,” etc. 
Three male, two female characters. One cottage interior scene. 
Costumes, of time of George II.. Plays forty minutes. The 
songs are all written to be sung to popular and well-known 
airs; dances may be introduced without limit, although there 
is a real plot and story carried to a happy termination. Bike 
other plays by this writer, “A Handsome Cap” is peculiarly 
suited to amateur and professional vaudeville evenings. 
Price, 15 cents. 

Maud Muller, operetta in three acts, by Fffle W. Merri- 
man, author “Socials,” “Pair of Artists,” etc. Three male, 
two female characters. Ludicrous costumes and some proper¬ 
ty effects which may be easily arranged but are very amus¬ 
ing. One interior, one exterior scene. Plays two hours. The 
piece is arranged for a chorus to do a good deal of work, but 
a distinct reader will be found effective. The book of the 
play gives the most minute directions for its production as to 
action and properties. The horse upon which the judge rides 
in the hay-field scene is represented by two men covered by a 
fur robe. The antics of this horse may be made as funny as 
the imagination of the director may suggest. The judge 
should be a spare man made up to look pompous. Church so¬ 
cieties, as well as amateur clubs, will find this a money-mak¬ 
ing entertainment. Price, 25 cents. 

Merry Cobbler. Comedy drama in four acts, by John A. 
Fraser, Jr., author “Bloomer Girls,” “Showman’s Ward.” 
“Modern Ananias,” etc. Six male, five female characters. Two 
interior, two exterior scenes. Modern costumes. Plays two 
hours. This romantic story of a German emigrant boy who 
falls in love with, and finally marries, a dashing Southern 
belle, is one of the cleanest and daintiest in the whole reper¬ 
toire of the minor stage. The Merry Cobbler is one of the 
type the late J. K Emmet so loved to portray. Had the piece 
been originally written for the use of amateurs it could not 
have been happier in its results, its natural and mirth-provok¬ 
ing comedy combined wiih a strong undercurrent of heart in¬ 
terest, rendering it a vehicle with which even inexperienced 
actors are sure to be seen at their best. The scenic effects are 
of the simplest description and the climaxes, while possessing 
the requisite amount of “thrill” are very easy to handle. 
The author has prepared elaborate instructions for its produc¬ 
tion by amateur players. Price, 25 cents. 

Minette’s Birthday. Vaudeville in one act, by R. An¬ 
dre, author of “A Handsome Cap,” “Food for Powder,” etc. 
Two male, three female characters. Plays forty-five minutes. 
One interior cottage scene. Costumes, in fancy French peasant 
fashion. This is another one of this author’s plays arranged 
for the popular amateur and professional vaudeville evenings. 
It i. full of merry songs and dances, refined, spirited and very 
amusing always. Price, 15 cents. 



THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


S 


Modern Ananias. Comedy in three acts, by John A. 
Fraser, Jr., author “Noble Outcast,” “Showman’s Ward,” etc. 
Four male, four female characters. Two interior, one exterior 
scenes. Modern society costumes. Plays three hours. This is 
a screaming- farcical comedy, v which depends upon the wit and 
humor of its lines no less than upon the drollery and absurdity 
of its situations for the shrieks of laughter it invariably pro¬ 
vokes. Unlike most farcical comedies. “A Modern Ananias” 
has an ingeniously complicated plot, which maintains a keen 
dramatic interest until the fall of the last curtain. The scen¬ 
ery, if necessary, may be reduced to a garden scene and an in¬ 
terior. The climaxes are all hilariously funny, and each of 
the three acts is punctured with laughs from beginning to 
end. Amateurs will find nothing more satisfactory in the 
whole range of the comic drama than this up-to-date comedy- 
farce. The fullest stage directions accompany the book, in¬ 
cluding all the “crosses” and positions, pictures, etc. Price, 
25 cents. 

Noble Outcast. Drama in four acts, by John A. Fraser, 
Jr., author “Modern Ananias,” “Merry Cobbler,” “Cheerful 
Lfiar,” etc. Four male, three female characters. Plays three 
hours. Costumes, modern, except Jerry’s, when he appears as 
a tramp and again as an exagerated “swell.” This play has 
proven one of the most popular ever produced on the profes¬ 
sional stage, but the author for the first time now allows it to 
be printed from the original manuscript. All the entrances, 
exits and positions will be found in the book of the play. It is 
safe to say that in the whole range of the drama there is no 
character to be found with such power to compel alternate 
laughter and tears as is shown by “Jerry, the tramp.” The 
dramatic interest is always intense. Price, 25 cents. 

Pair of Artists. Comedy in three acts, by Bffie W. Merri- 
man, author of “Maud Muller,” “Socials,” etc. Four male, 
three female characters. Plays one and three-quarters hours. 
Three interior scenes, all easily arranged. Mrs. Scott wears 
bloomers and a man’s hat; Mr. Scott, blue overalls and a 
checked gingham apron; Gertie, a long-sleeved apron and hair 
braided down her back; the others, conventional dress of to¬ 
day. Bach character has a prominent part. There is no vil¬ 
lain or heavy people; all goes with a vim, and has been pre¬ 
sented to the most critical audiences with entire success. 
Price, 15 cents. 

Purse, The. Comedy in two acts; dramatized by Theo¬ 
dore Harris, from Balzac’s “Ua Bourse.” Seven male, two 
female characters. Plays one hour and fifty minutes. Interior 
scenes. Costumes of the time of Napoleon I. The exquisite 
language and sentiment of this noted French writer has been 
admirably translated by Mr. Harris. For a student of dra¬ 
matic literature, this play is recommended. The dialogue is 
as dainty and charming as a piece of French porcelain. 
Price, 15 cents. 





6 


THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


Showman’s Ward. Comedy in three acts, by John A. 
Fraser, Jr., author of “Noble Outcast,” “Delicate Question,” 
“Merry Cobbler,” etc. Eight male, five female characters. 
Three doubles may be made. Costumes of to-day. Plays two 
and one-half hours, This comedy has been very successfully 
performed under another title on the professional stage. It 
is, however, well adapted for the use of amateurs on account 
of the absence of scenic effects, the play being capable of per¬ 
formance in a parlor with different furniture for each act. 
The more singing and dancing introduced, the better for the 
performance. There is a dress rehearsal scene and a girls’ 
school scene, which are always uproariously funny. The 
number of girls taking part in the school scene may be unlim¬ 
ited, thus making the play an admirable one for a club or 
society. The role of the showman’s ward is a soubrette one, 
and it can easily be made a star part by a clever young wo¬ 
man if this is desired. Still, all the characters are so distinct¬ 
ly drawn that each is important and leading. Mr. Fraser has, 
as usual, given full directions for the stage production of this 
comedy in the book of the play. Price, 25 cents. 

Twixt Love and Money. Comedy drama in four acts, 
by John A. Fraser, Jr., author “Modern Ananias,” “Merry 
Cobbler,” “Noble Outcast,” etc. Eight male, three female 
characters. Plays two and one-half hours. Three interior 
scenes. Costumes of the day. This charming domestic com¬ 
edy drama of the present day bids fair to rival, both with pro¬ 
fessionals and amateurs, the success of “Hazel Kirke.” The 
scene is laid in a little village on the coast of Maine, and the 
action is replete with dramatic situations which “play them¬ 
selves.” The story is intensely interesting and, in these days 
of Frenchy adaptations and “problem” plays, delightfully 
pure; while the moral—that love brings more happiness than 
does money—is plainly pointed without a single line of preach¬ 
ing. No such romantic interest has been built up around a 
simple, country heroine since the production of “Hazel Kirke” 
and “May Blossom” years ago. The play is in four acts, and 
as the scenery is easy to manage it is particularly well adapted 
for the use of amateurs. This play was originally written for 
professionals, but has been carefully revised for amateurs by 
Mr. Fraser, and the book contains full directions for all stage 
business. The dramatic interest is intense, each act being 
given a strong climax in situation and dialogue. Price, 25 cents. 

Will You Marry Me? Farce in one act, by Robert 
Julian, author of “Burglars.” Two male, two female charac¬ 
ters. Plays twenty minutes. Costumes of to-day for eccen¬ 
tric old gentleman, one maiden elderly lady, one young man 
and one young woman. One interior parlor scene. The plot 
is full of intensely amusing matrimonial complications, with 
a happy ending. The fun is about evenly divided among the 
four strong parts. Some clever acting is desired where the 
dialogue is repeated under contrasting circumstances, by dif¬ 
ferent persons. Price, 15 cents. 



THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


7 


The World Acting Drama. 

Price, 15 Cents. 

This collection of plays contains only such as are world-wide in popularity. 
Some are suitable for the amateur stage, some for the professional stage, some 
for both. The farces are sparkling, the comedies witty, the dramas and trage¬ 
dies thrilling, but nothing dull, impure or suggestive is admitted. The plays 
are printed from large clear type, on good paper, and are undoubtedly supe¬ 
rior to all other editions in the market. 

Betsy Baker. Farce in one act, by J. Madison Morton, 
uthor of “Box and Cox,” “Slasher and Crasher,” etc. Two 
male, two female characters. Parlor scene. Plays forty-five 
minutes. Costumes, simple ones of to-day. Wherever this 
farce is presented it is received with the greatest enthusiasm 
They are all star parts. 

Box and Cox. Romance in real life, in one act, by J. 
Madison Morton, author of “Poor Pillicoddy,” “Betsy Baker,” 
etc. Two male, one female characters. Plays thirty-five 
minutes. Plain every-day costumes. One plainly furnished 
room. There is no other farce that has been given as often 
and as successfully as “Box and Cox.” It always keeps an 
udience in a continual roar of laughter. 

By Special Desire. Drawing-room monologue for a lady 
in one interior scene. Usually plays fifteen minutes. The 
Usual evening or afternoon dress can be worn. This is best 
given by one possessing a simple unaffected style. 

Cool as a Cucumber. Farce in one act, by W. Blanch¬ 
ard Jerrold. Three male, two female characters. Plays fifty 
minutes. Parlor scene. Costumes of to-day. Star part for a 
dashing young comedian, with other characters well-drawn. 
The play is rich in opportunities and dramatic situations. 

Cricket on the Hearth, or, A Fairy Tale of Home. 
Drama in three acts, dramatized by Albert Smith from Charles 
Dickens’ story of the same name. Seven male, eight female 
characters, besides fairies and neighbors. Two interior scenes. 
Costumes of fifty years ago. Plays two hours. Invariably 
Witnessed with enthusiasm. 

Daughter-in-Law. Comedietta in one act, by Mary 
Seymour, Four female characters. Plays thirty minutes. 
Interior scene. Modern costumes. This is a first-class play 
for a curtain-raiser or to give in connection with a broader 
farcical comedy. It is very refined, but spirited. 

Fast Friends, Comedietta in one act, by R. Henry, 
author of “A Narrow Escape,” etc. Two female characters. 
Modern costumes. Plays twenty minutes. Interior scene. A 
very amusing little play, which is always well received, where- 
ever given. Full of action and bright dialogue. 



8 


THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


Gringoire, Pathetic play in one act, translated from the 
French of De Banville by Arthur Shirley. Four male, two 
female characters. Interior scene. Fouis XI. costumes. Plays 
forty minutes. Nat. Goodwin has made this a most successful 
play in his repertoire, but it is also easily given by amateurs. 

Hamlet. Tragedy, by William Shakespeare, arranged in 
five acts by Mr. Wilson Barrett. Nineteen male, three female 
characters. Plays two hours. The action of this edition is 
carefully indicated, and the large clear type makes it a special¬ 
ly good one for students and public readers. 

Hidden Hand. Drama in five acts, by Robert Jones, ar¬ 
ranged from Mrs. F. D. F. N. Southworth’s celebrated novel. 
Fifteen male, seven female characters. Costumes modern. 
Plays two and one-half hours. Four interior, two exterior 
scenes. A thrilling drama, with strong comedy scenes as 
well. One excellent negro part. 

Ici on Parle Francais. Farce in one act, by Thomas 
J. Williams, author of “Farkin’s Fove Fetters,” etc. Three 
male, four female characters. One interior scene. One military 
and costumes of to-day. Plays forty minutes. This is one of 
the oest of farces. Fvery character is good and all goes with 
a rush. 

Kathleen Mavourneen, or St. Patrick’s Eve. Do¬ 
mestic Irish drama in four acts. Twelve male, four female 
characters. Three interior, two exterior scenes. Irish cos¬ 
tumes. Plays two and one-quarter hours. The most popular 
Irish play ever written. Contains an unusual variety of char¬ 
acters and incidents, and it always takes well with audiences. 

Lend Me Five Shillings. Farce in one act, by J. Mad¬ 
ison Morton, author of “Betsy Baker,” etc. Five male, two 
female characters. Interior scene. Fvening costumes. Plays 
forty minutes. Joseph Jefferson and Nat. Goodwin consider 
Mr. Golightly one of their best parts. The play is uproarious¬ 
ly funny. 

Loan of a Lover. Vaudeville in one act, by J. R. Planche. 
Four male, two female characters. One military costume for 
gentleman, one outdoor dress for a lady, and the others wear 
picturesque peasants’ dress. Garden scene. Plays fifty min¬ 
utes. This play affords fine opportunities to introduce songs 
and dances. 

Mistletoe Bough. Pantomime entertainment in five 
scenes, arranged from the well-known ballad by Henry R. 
Bishop. Two male, four female characters, Fifty ladies and 
gentlemen and as many children often take part, although a 
less number present it excellently. Plays two hours. Play 
gives full directions for production and costumes, 

M rs. Willis’ Will. Comedy drama in one act, adapted 
from the French of Fmile Souvestre. Five female characters. 
Interior scene. Modern costumes. Plays forty minutes. A 
country jig danced under protest by two of the ladies creates 
much fun. All the characters, as well as the moral, are good. 




THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY’S CATALOGUE 


CHILDREN’S PLAYS 

The object of publishing these little plays is to provide a aeries that require 
one scene only in each piece and which will occupy about 15 to 25 minutes in per¬ 
formance. They can all be thoroughly recommended as the simplest plays for 
children ever published. Price, 15 cents each. 


The Fairy Blossom. 3 males, 3 females. Scene, a King’s Cham¬ 
ber. The Fairy Blossom belonging to the queen has been stolen 
and the king vows he will severely punish the thief. Carlo is 
accused, but his betrothed wife Lena will not allow him to be sacri¬ 
ficed, as she plucked the flower to comfort her sick sister. The 
king, who had complained about having nothing to do, then learns 
that his alms have not been properly distributed among the poor in 
a proper manner and resolves to look after them himself. 

A Home Fairy. 2 males, 2 females. Scene, a Parlor. Bertie Eger- 
ton and his wife are very poor and cannot get work. Their little 
daughter Lily is desirous of doing something to help them. The 
proprietor of a theatre, Cecil Vane, arrives and offers to make Lily 
a fairy in the pantomime, to fill the place of one who is ill. Lily’s 
mother happens to be Vane’s long lost daughter and they are happily 
re-united 

A King; in Disguise. 5 males, 1 female. Scene, a Cottage Room. 
This is the story of King Alfred and the cakes, his sojourn at the 
neat-herd’s cottage, wh-^re news is brought to him of the overthrow 
of the Danes. 

The Lady Cecil. 1 male, 4 females. Scene, a Room. A nurse 
brings her own child up as the Lady Cecil, the real Lady Cecil being 
lost when an infant. They have a handmaid, Clare, to whom the 
nurse is cruel, but she is beloved by Cecil. A fairy appears and 
pronounces Clare to be the child that was lost. Lord Hilary has 
courted Lady Cecil, but vows the change will not mate any differ¬ 
ence in his affections. 

The Little Folks’ Work. 2 males, 3 females. Scene, a Kitcheru 
Three little children resolve to help their father and mother in 
household duties; they make terrible mistakes, but their parontsare 
satisfied with their goodwill and loving help. 



THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY'S CATALOGUE 


The Magician and the Ring. 3 males, 2 females. Scene, a Room. 
The Lady Trevor has lost a valuable ring. She seeks the aid of a 
magician to find it. He discovers that the servants have taken it 
and he is enabled to restore it. 

A Midsummer Frolic. 2 males, 2 females. Scene, a Wood. Percy 
believes in fairies. His companions play a trick upon him, dress¬ 
ing up and making him think he is on enchanted ground. 

Prince or Peasant. 2 males, 2 females. Scene, a Road. Prince 
Claud has been betrothed in infancy to Princess Brenda, but the 
Prince, tired of Court ceremonies, disguises as a peasant in order to 
seek someone of sterling worth in humble life. The Princess does 
the same, they meet and exchange rings and afterward in their 
Court attire they recognize in each other the peasant they have 
already encountered and fallen in love with. 

Princess Marguerite’s Choice. 5 males, 3 females. Scene, a Room. 
The Princess Marguerite is visited by various knights to solicit her 
hand in marriage. They offer her wealth, power and valor, but 
her choice rests upon Sir Innocent, who can offer her nothing but 
a spotless name and a loving heart. 

Snowwhite. 4 males 2 females. Scene, a Room. The queen is 
jealous of Snowwhite’s beauty and instructs a servant to take her 
into a wood and slay her. The servant pretends this has been done 
and Snowwhite falls into the hands of the dwarfs. The queen's 
magic glass telling her that Snowwhite still lives, she dresses in dis¬ 
guise, and twice attempts to poison her step-daughter. Her plans 
are frustrated, she repents and Snowwhite is united to Prince Flor- 
imel. 

The Sleepers Awakened. 3 males, 3 females. Scene, a Room. 
Abou Hassan, the Sultan’s favorite, and hia wife, Nouzhatoul, are 
hard up. In order to obtain money he tells the Sultan that his wife 
is dead, while Nouzhatoul tells Zobeide, the Sultan’s wife, that her 
husband is dead. The Sultan and his wife quarrel as to which is 
deceased and come to find out, whereupon Abou and Nouzhatoul 
both pretend to be lifeless. The Sultan offering a thousand gold 
pieces to know which died first, Abou jumps up and claims that he 
did. The Sultan is so pleased with their joke that he forgives 
them. 

The Three Fairy Gifts. 2 males, 6 females. Scene, a Wood. A 
fairy queen grants a gift to the three maidens, Cynthia, Violet and 
Vera. The first chooses wealth, the second beauty, while Vera desires 
die power to make others happy. Cynthia and Violet are led into 
trouble by their gifts and beseech the fairy to take them away, but 
Vera is the means of teaching them how they should profit by their 
good fortune. 

The Two Sisters. A bright little children’s play in one act for 4 
female characters. 



DIAMONDS AND HEARTS 

A Comedy Drama in Three Acts. 

By EFF1E W. MERRIMAN. 

Price, 25 Cents. 


This new play has bounded at once into a wide popularity. 
The good plot, the strong “heart” interest, and the abundant 
comedy all combine to m ike a most excellent drama. “Bub” 
Barnes U a fine character of the Josh Whitcomb type, and his 
sister is a worthy companion “bit.” Sammy is an excruciatingly 
funny little darky. The other characters are good. Fine oppor¬ 
tunity for introducing specialties. The play has so many good 
points that it never fails to be a success. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Bernice Halstead, a young lady of eighteen,with an affection of 

the heart, a love for fun and hatred of arithmetic.. 

Amy Halstead, her sister, two years younger, fond of frolic.... 
Inez Gray, a young lady visitor willing to share in the fun.... 
Mrs. Halstead, a widow, and stepmother to the Halstead girls. 
Hannah Mary Barnes, or “Sis,”a maiden lady who keeps house 

for her brother. 

Dwight Bradley, a fortune hunter and Mrs. Halstead’s son by 

a former marriage. 

Dr. Burton, a young physician... 

Sammy, the darky bell-boy in the Halstead house. 

Abraham Barnes, or “Bub,” a yankee farmer still unmarried at 

forty—a diamond in the rough . 

Attorney; Sheriff. 

Time of playing, two hours. 

Two interior scenes. Modern costumes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS: 

ACT I. Parlor of the Halstead home. The young doctor. The three girls 
plot to make his acquaintance. An affection of the heart. “Easy to fool a 
young doctor,” but not so easy after all. The stepmother and her son. The 
stolen diamonds. The missing will Plot to win Bernice. “I would not marry 
Dwight Bradley for all the wealth the world contains.” Driven from home. 

ACT. II. Kitchen of the Barnes’ farm house, Bub takes off his boots. 
The new school ma’am. “Supoer’s ready.” “This is our nephey and he’s a 
doctor.” Recognition. A difficult problem in arithmetic. The doctor to the 
rescue. “I’m just the happiest girl in the world.” “I’ve come to pop the 
question, an’ why don’t I do it?” Brother and sister. “If it’s a heifer, it’s teh 
be mine.” The sheriff. Arrested for stealing the diamonds. “Let me knock 
,yer durned head off.” The jewels found in Bernice’s trunk. 

ACT. III. Parlor of the Halsted home. “That was a lucky stroke—hiding 
those diamonds in her trunk.” The schemer’s plot miscarries. Abe and 
Sammy join hands. The lawyer. “Bully for her.” Bradley tries to escape 
“No, yeh don’t!” Arrested. “It means, dear, that you are to be persecuted no 
more ” Wedding presents, and a war dance around them. “It is no trick at 
all to fool a young doctor.” 


1 











PLAYS. 


DEING the largest theatrical booksellers in 
' the United States, we keep in stock the most 
complete and best assorted lines of plays and 
entertainment books to be found in this country 

We can supply any play or book pub¬ 
lished. We have issued a 120-page catalogue 
of the best 1500 plays and entertainment books 
published in the U. S. and England. It con¬ 
tains a full description of each play, giving 
number of characters, time of playing, scenery, 
costumes, etc. This catalogue will be sent free 
on application. 

The plays described are suitable for am¬ 
ateurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
may be performed free of royalty. Persons in¬ 
terested in dramatic books should examine our 
catalogue before ordering elsewhere. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company, 


CHICAGO. 




























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